


I'm Not Okay (I Feel So Scattered)

by Starspot



Series: Every Day You Keep Me Sane [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Lance has a right to cuss ok, M/M, Post-War, Prosthetics, Space family, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starspot/pseuds/Starspot
Summary: The whole time he was gone, Lance had worried that his family would change without him. That they would have filled in the gap he’d left behind and moved on without him. Part of him had been resigned to that. They thought he was dead, so it made sense.He never considered, in all his imagined scenarios, that maybe the gap that they had left for him was no longer his size.or: The war has ended, and Lance has finally come home. Home, however, doesn't feel quite the way he imagined anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So typical scenario: s8 sucked, and honestly most of the last three seasons did too, so I decided to play around. A lot. I've taken parts of s6 and adapted them for this, but nothing beyond that really counts. I will update this on Wednesdays; the fic is finished, so barring an emergency, this schedule won't change. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title comes from the song "listen before I go" by Billie Eilish.

Coming home after the war is nothing like Lance’s dreams made it out to be.

Lance had imagined the reunion hundreds of times, in hundreds of ways. Infinite space and empty castle halls left nothing but imagination to entertain himself with most days. He’d kept himself sane by thinking of his family, thinking of their open hearts. Thinking of home. His family would cry and cheer and fling their arms out for hugs regardless of the years that had passed. He would promise never to leave them again. He would leave space behind, finally be rid of his homesickness. He would settle back into life on Earth, get a job, support his mother and father. He would fall in love. 

He would be able to _live_ again, like he always wanted to.

And … that was how it happened. For the most part, anyway. He’d parked Blue on an island near Varadero Beach and swam to shore. He didn’t cry, like he thought he would, but his heart was beating out of his chest and he’d dragged himself through the dunes and up to the houses facing the ocean. The spare key was still hiding behind that one loose brick, like they knew he would need it one day. He unlocked the door and stood in the hall, and his mother shrieked like she’d seen a ghost, just like he’d imagined. She had screamed and sobbed and threw herself into his arms. He did cry then, as he clung to her thin shoulders with more force than he knew he had. They both looked different--he’d been gone seven years--but the love and wonder and sheer relief was still there all the same. 

Within an hour the house was vibrant and full just as he remembered it. He’d cried some more, pressed himself in between his brother and sister in the overflowing living room. He told them grandiose stories about his adventures. The fun parts. He was a hero, and the world would never know, but his family would sing his praises for generations to come. 

But … he was different. 

The whole time he was gone, Lance had worried that his family would change without him. That they would have filled in the gap he’d left behind and moved on without him. Part of him had been resigned to that. They thought he was dead, so it made sense.

He never considered, in all his imagined scenarios, that maybe the gap that they had left for him was no longer his size. 

War changed people. Lance knew that. His father told him that before he’d decided to become a pilot. He wasn’t in total denial; seven years was a long time to fight. He’d matured, he’d … seen and done things most Humans would never have to. But he had thought he could adjust once he came back. That he could go back to the way things used to be, before all of that. He deserved it, after everything he’d been through. 

He’d thought the castle was boring, and lonely, but that was nothing compared to this. 

He didn’t let them know just how out of place he felt. They always had room for him in their hearts. They’d never given up on him, even when the Garrison lied and told them they’d never found the body. They had waited for him anyway. 

But the Lance they waited for was _their_ Lance.

Naive, carefree, high-spirited Lance, the one who left for the Garrison with wild fantasies of flying alongside the likes of Takashi Shirogane in space.

He got his adventure with Shiro, in the end, but it wasn’t the one he used to dream about. 

Lance thought once the war was over he wouldn’t look back. He’d let someone else pilot Blue, and he’d retire to Earth for good. Why would he _want_ to return to a life that had taken so much of himself away from him? He’d fought through his insecurities, earned his place on his team. He earned their trust and their respect. He loved them like a second family, and _Keith_ \--

He wanted to be done. Over it. He wanted to stop watching the people he loved put themselves in danger next to him, over and over again. He wanted his heart to stop breaking.

He’d had _enough_.

But three months after he had landed in the waters near Varadero, he finds himself fiddling with the silent communicator Allura had pressed into his hands before the team split. His gaze is distant, staring through the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his bedroom ceiling. His imagination doesn’t really run wild these days, except in his dreams to remind him of everything he wished never happened. 

He hadn’t wanted the communicator at the time. It was only for emergencies, if Allura found the castle in a situation so dire they couldn’t go without Voltron. With Zarkon and Lotor gone, it was highly unlikely. The Galran reign was over and done with. Lance didn’t want the possibility of having to go back out. Still, he couldn’t bear the thought of something happening without his knowledge, or … or if one of them died because he didn’t respond … 

“Lance,” Allura had said, placing the device into his hands and then pulling him in close for a hug, “It’s not just for me. If you ever need anything … I know you just want to live your life. And that is alright. I … we will miss you, Coran and I.” She looked briefly at Shiro and Keith, who were staying on the ship too. “You are part of us, always. We would be at your side in a heartbeat.” 

So he took the communicator, and resolved to tuck it away. He wouldn’t need it. That part of his life was over. He would miss them sorely, but he needed to move on. 

But he hasn’t. He hasn’t and now he finds himself fiddling with the damned thing, his thumb hovering over the call button. He doesn’t have a reason to call them, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want to hear their voices. He misses Coran’s stories of Altea. He misses braiding Allura’s hair after a bad mission, rhythmically stroking through her hair until the tremors in his arms cease and he can smile again. He misses Shiro’s silent but sturdy companionship. 

He misses arguing with Keith over stupid shit until his chest feels bubbly.

Would they be mad at him if he calls? They’re probably in the middle of something. Some diplomatic meeting, or stopping a civil war, or gathering information for the Blade. He’d just be interrupting them. They live a life of daring and intrigue, and he … he is laying in bed, doing nothing with his life, staring at fake stars and faded posters. He doesn’t deserve to talk to them. 

A sudden knock interrupts his thoughts. Lance fumbles, shoving the communicator under his pillow and yanking his blanket up to his waist. He looks desperately towards his bayard, on instinct, before his body remembers the lack of danger. He is home. No one can hurt him here. 

A deep breath. A moment to channel his inner Lance. Then, calmly, “Sup?”

The door creaks open slowly, and a head of dark curls peers around it. “Jesus, Lance, why’s it so dark in here?” 

“Roni,” he greets with a grin, eyes darting to the light switch. He doesn’t need to tell her that he’s been laying here for hours, that he simply lacked the motivation to do much of anything anymore. “The lights hurt my eyes sometimes,” he lies instead. “You can turn them on if you want.”

If Veronica suspects anything, she doesn’t say so. She simply reaches over and flips the switch before making her way into the room. In one hand, she holds a plate of food. “You missed dinner.”

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“You miss dinner a lot.”

Oh. Shit. He keeps carefully still as she lowers herself onto the bed next to him, darting his hand out to take the plate himself before she can lay it on top of his legs. Veronica is a lot more observant than she used to be; he attributes it to her training from the Garrison. She wanted to follow in his footsteps, she’d told him when he asked. Wasn’t good enough to fly, but she’d climbed to top rankings in communications until she was offered a position. She is on leave to be with Lance, and he can’t even find the heart to be jealous of her success. He’s proud. 

He wasn’t allowed back at the Garrison … not that he had wanted to be. Hunk and Pidge and he had all agreed that their system was too corrupt, even if they did want to take them back. The Garrison had lied, had told their parents they were dead. And it had all started with Shiro. The three of them can fly circles around even the most skilled pilots now; studying to be a fighter pilot is like child’s play in comparison. Pidge was the only one who still wanted anything to do with them, and that was only because her father had been accepted back with open arms. She does not divulge information to the base, no matter how much they beg. They don’t deserve it. She simply takes advantage of the resources at her disposal. 

She and Hunk settled back into life on Earth like it was second nature, and they weren’t the ones desperate for so much as a mention of their home planet while they were in space. 

Lance doesn’t understand why he can’t do the same thing. 

“You know,” Veronica murmurs, gingerly resting her head against his shoulder. He shifts the plate of food, looking at her with a strange mix of terror and appreciation. He doesn’t let his family see how bad the damage really is, both physically and mentally. As much as he wants to relax and be himself, part of him is sure that isn’t what they need right now. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I’m fine,” he answers with a scoff, but it’s so weak even he isn’t convinced. 

“You’re not, _hermanito_. We all know you aren’t. Who would be, after all of that? You were fighting a war away from home for years. We know … We know you have nightmares. And it’s okay. Just maybe let us in? You don’t have to shoulder it on your own.” 

Lance sighs, eyes shifting to the window. He knows they care, but they don’t understand. No one does, really, except the group he’d lived with out in space, and they aren’t here. Maybe that is the problem. He can’t settle in because he can’t cope without one of them to help. How fucking pathetic of him. “It’s not that easy,” he finally admits, because he does trust them. He loves them more than life itself. He’d gone to war to protect them, but they don’t need to see what that sacrifice has done to him. Not all of it, not yet. “And it’s not your job. I can handle it on my own. There’s no need for you to worry.” 

Veronica scowls, reaching over to grab his nose and squeeze. He squawks indignantly, and doesn’t even need to fake this time. “We’re your family, Lance. It’s our job to worry.” 

“Still.” He smiles, and he means it, but he isn’t going to tell them. Not all of them, but maybe just ... Instead he stretches his hand out and finds the fork on his plate. “Thanks for bringing me food.”

“Next time, come down and eat with us. You’re stressing _mami_ out.” 

“I will.” And he will. He hasn’t meant to shut them out. It’s the last thing he wants to do. Whatever he thinks they want or need, he should start to be more conscious of that. “Promise. And I’m fine, Veronica. Really. I just wanted to …”

“Give yourself time to adjust?”

He shakes his head. “No. I just don’t want anyone to be upset with me.” 

“God, you’re a fucking idiot.” She rushes forward, throwing her arms around his neck without hesitation. Quickly he raises his hand to hug back until she pulls back and meets his eyes. “It’s been seven years, Lance. We know you’re pretending to be someone you aren’t anymore, and honestly, if you hadn’t changed I’d be a little disappointed. Loverboy Lance was a little out of control, you know?”

Lance snorts, letting the easy grin cross his face. It definitely isn’t fake this time. “Aww, it worked, though! The babes were all over me out in space.”

“Should’ve brought one home then.” 

“Yeah, hey mom, let me introduce you to my Arusian date, okay? They’re a little short, and okay, maybe a bit furry, but it’s true love, ya know?” 

It is so easy to slide back into the jokes and the teasing with Veronica, at least. She would never judge Lance, not that he thinks. She is the only one in the family that can even remotely fathom what he’d gone through out there.

He really needs to let at least one of them in. 

“Hey, Roni,” he adds, the grin falling from his face. 

She straightens up immediately. “Hmm?”

Letting her in is step one. Step one to coming home, really coming home. He doesn’t need to be in space anymore. He can move on. Lance looks down at the plate on his lap, and the blanket underneath. “I’m meeting Pidge tomorrow for … something. Do you want to come with me?” 

“Pi … oh, _Dios mío_ , Commander Holt’s daughter?!” His sister leaps up from the bed, clapping her hands to her mouth in excitement. “Katie, right? The one you were in space with? She was a communications cadet before you guys disappeared, I’ve heard so many _stories_ \--”

“Sooo … I’ll take that as a yes?” 

She narrows her eyes at him. “I’ll kill you if you try to leave without me, I swear. Isn’t she stationed near the Garrison, though? Will she be staying overnight?”

“She’s flying her lion, I’d expect. It will be a short trip for her.” 

Lance knows it the moment Veronica puts it together, and determinedly turns his face to the side. “Why don’t you ever fly yours?” 

He sighs, purposely shoving half of an empanada into his mouth before replying, “It’s complicated.” 

“How is it--”

“Roni, _please_.” 

“Okay. Sorry.” She steps back, towards the door. “But you … letting me come with you. I really appreciate it, Lance.” 

He nods, looking at his sister one more time. As long as she doesn’t ask too many questions, he trusts her to come with him, and to keep what she sees a secret for the time being. 

One person at a time.

“Goodnight, Lance.” 

He waits until the door shuts behind her to sag back against the small bed’s headboard, digging under the pillow for the communicator. 

The device is flashing, and his heart leaps up into his throat. He must have accidentally pressed the button when he was hiding it earlier. No one answered the call, and Lance doesn’t know if he is disappointed or relieved by that. But the flashing light indicates a message. He swallows and presses it.

A voice he hasn’t heard in months sounds in the quiet of his room. 

“Lance?” _Keith_. “I’m so sorry, we weren’t expecting you to … uh, anyway, what’s up? Just … call back if you can. Alright? I … we miss you. Just. Yeah. Alright. Talk to you later?” 

He replays it once, twice, before shaking his head roughly and dropping the device next to his bayard. He isn’t getting rid of them, or ignoring them, he just needs to work on himself first. Get to a place where he feels comfortable acknowledging everything that makes him different without sacrificing everyone he’s come back home to.

He shuts his eyes and rolls over and pretends the whole situation doesn’t feel wrong to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all in for some angst?

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t just meet her at the house,” Veronica complains, shoulders sagging forward. Lance looks back at her, taking in her sweaty forehead and fumbling steps. Sometimes he forgets other people don’t have the stamina build up he’d gained in space. 

He grins sheepishly. “We’re almost there. Does you good to get exercise anyway. All you do at the Garrison is park your ass in a chair and holler about the fighter pilots steering in the wrong direction.” 

“That’s not what I do!” She falls quiet, just for a minute, before adding, “You’re feeling it too, don’t lie. I see you rubbing your leg up there.” 

He jerks his hand up and away nervously, digging fingers into his shirt. He was doing it unconsciously but he didn’t think she would notice. “It’s not what you think,” he replies vaguely. 

She catches up, flinging an arm around his shoulders. “Is it a war wound? I knew you weren’t perfect out there in space. Is that why you don’t go swimming with us anymore? Can I see?” 

Lance scowls and pulls away from her. “Yes, yes, and in a bit. And that’s all I’m saying, okay?” He slows and eyes her nervously. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone about this before I let you meet Pidge. I’m not … it isn’t … it doesn’t matter to me but I don’t want to upset the rest of the family. So I’ll let you in on this first. Promise me, Veronica.” 

His sister seems to pick up on the tone and simply nods, letting her arm fall back to her side. He blows out a sharp sigh of relief and smiles. “We’re heading here,” he finishes, pointing to the large building directly in front of them. 

“A military base?” 

“Yeah. Pidge tried to get a room at the hospital but uh … what we need the room for isn’t strictly medical in nature, so this was the next best thing.” 

He’s said too much already, so he lets Veronica stew on it while he climbs up the steps and goes inside. The inside of the base looks suspiciously similar to the one near the Garrison but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to dwell on it. If he hadn’t flown into a wormhole and, like, casually saved the universe, his job might have involved something like this. He’s kind of glad it doesn’t when he meets the eyes of the very bored lieutenant manning the desk. 

“Has Pid--uh, Katie Holt arrived yet?” he asks without preamble. 

The lieutenant raises an eyebrow pointedly. 

“Uh, oh, right. Lance McClain. She _did_ give clearance for me, right?” 

“Save the fucking universe and no one even knows who you are,” Veronica scoffs behind him. He ignores her in favor of watching the lieutenant, who finally seems to understand enough of the situation to realize she is supposed to actually show him where to go. 

“Second door on the right behind me. You have two hours.” 

Lance beams a large grin at her. “Thanks,” he sings, stepping by her with poorly constrained excitement. He hasn’t seen any of the other Paladins since their last debriefing on the Castle of Lions, and though he keeps in steady contact with Pidge and Hunk, he sincerely misses being next to the two of them. They are a trio, and even if they were all in different parts of the world, that will never change. 

He barely has the door open before a small, compact body is bowling him over; he falls back into Veronica with a strangled “oof” of an exhale. 

“Lance!” the body cries loudly, wiry arms curling around his waist in what should have been a hug but feels more like a full on tackle. “You fucker, I’ve been waiting forever!” 

“We’re only five minutes late!” he hollers right back, flinging his arms around her neck to cling back. Having her here, in his arms as a solid warm comfort, puts him more at ease than he’s been in months. He smothers that thought down deep, alongside the ones from the message on his communicator. 

Pidge is as fiery and small as ever, but her thin arms have grown firm muscles and her hair has grown considerably. As they pull away, she offers him a toothy grin and brushes her fingers down her front. Unsurprisingly, she is already covered in grease, smudges over her face. A thin network of starburst scars crawl their way up her left cheek. If anything, the scar only accentuates the uniqueness of Pidge. 

She peeks around him curiously. “Who’s this?”

“Veronica,” he introduces. “Thought I’d ask her to tag along. She’s a fan of yours, apparently.” 

“O-Oh my God,” Veronica gushes, rushing forward with a hand offered. “Miss Holt, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Lance has told us so much but--”

“Just call me Pidge,” the smallest Paladin laughs, taking the offered hand for a shake. “No one but my dad and dumbass authority figures call me my real name anymore.” 

“Right, okay! Nice to meet you, then, Pidge!”

He steps into the room to let them talk, skimming the open space while he toes out of his shoes. Some small part of him hoped that maybe Hunk would come with her, but he knows Hunk is happily settled in at home, working in his family’s bakery. He’s finished with Voltron. 

“Hunk says hi,” Pidge murmurs beside him, moments later, and he jumps. “He wanted to come, actually, but he had some sort of big order today.”

“He’s welcome anytime,” Lance sighs wistfully, “He knows that, right?”

“Of course.” She side-eyes him and drops her voice. “She doesn’t know, does she?” 

He shakes his head, eyeballing Veronica as she wanders towards a chair. “None of them do. That’s why I asked her to come.”

“Hmm. Testing the waters?” 

“She’ll keep quiet for me until I’m ready to show the others, yeah.” He leans in, nudging her playfully with a hip. “Not that I don’t want to show off your handiwork every chance I get. I’m just …” 

“For once I think I understand where you’re coming from, so don’t worry your pretty head.” Pidge smiles back. “Should you tell her first or are we just going to get to it?”

“Roni,” he calls as an answer, watching her head snap up. She seems less at ease now. He wants to grin and tell her it’s not a big deal, but it kind of is. This is him now. This is what has changed. He’s never told his family just what exactly had been sacrificed to win the war. “Remember you promised,” he tells her instead. Veronica steels her face and nods. 

“Take your fucking pants off, Lance,” Pidge sings from nearby, dragging a huge toolbox over to a couch. 

He scowls at her. “Not words I ever want to hear coming out of your mouth again.”

“Just do it!”

His fingers nimbly undo the button and zipper of his jeans before he can back out. He meets Veronica’s gaze with determination before letting the fabric drop to pool around his ankles, leaving him in socks and boxers.

Pidge pushes him over to the bench before his sister can form a proper reaction, which is probably for the best. Lance watches impassively as the green paladin runs nimble fingers over the sleek metal prosthetic that replaced the majority of his right leg. Hiding it from his family has been difficult in more ways than one. He’s a naturally affectionate person; he likes contact. A lot. He’s had to withdraw to keep them from noticing anything. He can’t wear shorts in the Cuban heat like he used to, either. Just … a lot of things he wishes he didn’t have to do. 

But he doesn’t want to have to explain to his mother, to his siblings, the extent they’d gone to in order to save the universe. They’d all returned with scars, some worse than others. He wants to wear his like a badge, because he is so proud of their success despite the odds. 

He has a strong suspicion his family won’t feel the same.

So he has been hiding it until now. 

“You haven’t been letting the port breathe,” Pidge sighs, pressing into the portion of metal that meets his flesh thigh. “I told you, this isn’t like Shiro’s arm. You have to take it off or the wires will go bad.” 

Lance shakes his head with a cough. “The McClains have like zero privacy. They’re always barging into my room without knocking. There was never a chance.” 

“There’s this magical thing called a lock.” 

“What’s that do again?”

And then comes Veronica. “What the _fuck_ , Lance?” 

She hasn’t moved from her chair, but her dark eyes are locked on his leg and her face has twisted into an unflattering expression of horror. Lance isn’t surprised. He probably would have reacted the same way, but it’s better to just show her rather than try to explain. He keeps quiet, watching and giving her time to process. 

“What … What happened? How the … I don’t understand how you managed to hide that from us, I just …” 

Is humor the way to go? He sure hopes it is. “I mean, it’s kind of obvious what happened. I don’t really think I need to describe the semantics of how a limb gets removed from the body, it’s kind of gross to be hone--”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Okay. Humor is not the way to go. Lance sighs and raises his eyes to the ceiling. “War happened, Roni. Lotor happened.” 

He hears her move before he sees her, kneeling down to run her fingers over the pristine white metal. Her chest is heaving--with the effort of holding back tears, he realizes a minute later. He looks desperately at Pidge; he’s no good with crying. He’s good at producing his own tears but never at comforting others. “But you never talk about the details,” Veronica seethes, suddenly gripping. “You only said you won, and that you were back. How long have you been like this? What happened to you?” 

“We thought the only way to get to Lotor was to make him think he’d won,” Pidge answers eventually. Her voice is tight, controlled, but she’d been the first to see him, after. Pidge had half-dragged him back to his lion after tying a haphazard tourniquet around what was left. She’d taken it hard. “So we created a scenario that would cause us to be captured. We knew there might be casualties.” Hazel eyes drift down. “We didn’t consider that Lotor might have already predicted we’d give ourselves up on purpose. He kept us in a cell for a couple days, then tried to take me. Lance decided to be an idiot and made Lotor take him instead. Then he got mouthy with him and that didn’t go over so well. He said Lotor took his sword and just ...” 

Veronica gasps, so Lance reaches out to settle a hand on her shoulder. “It was worth it. He only got to me. Well, and Shiro, kind of? He had some device that completely deactivated his arm. I don’t want to think about what he might have done to Pidge. But Lotor was kind of an idiot once he thought he had us. He took our bayards but he didn’t consider we might have other weapons on us.” 

“Keith somehow managed to slip Lance his luxite blade right before he got dragged out. By the time the rest of us got out of our cell …” 

Lance winks. “Sharpshooter saved the day. Well … kind of. I mean, me, but I didn’t use my bayard, so uh …” 

“Lance was in recovery while the rest of us took out the remaining Galra forces and any other remaining threats.” Pidge brushes Veronica’s hands away from the leg and reaches up towards a latch on his inner thigh. “As soon as he was ready, we took him back to Earth. So it’s been about … six months?” 

She is … not really speechless, it seems, but still says nothing else. Lance thought he was good at being comforting and all that, and maybe he used to be, but when it comes to things involving himself, he just doesn’t know the best method of attack. “It was worth it,” he mumbles into the silence that follows. “I’d rather lose a limb than let Lotor take the lives of my team or my family. This is _nothing_ compared to what I could have lost.”

That, at least, seems to resonate with Veronica, because she suddenly nods and meets his gaze again. “I have the best little brother in the universe, I guess. And I … understand. Why you didn’t want us to know. But God, Lance, it hasn’t even been that long. What if there were problems?” 

“Ehhh. Pidge was just a lion’s skip and a jump away.” 

“Pidge is busy being mad at you for not taking care of yourself,” the gremlin herself interjects. “Have you pulled it off at all? No lying.” 

All right, so bravado aside, Lance still gets queasy taking the prosthetic off. If it isn’t there then _nothing_ is there, and not too long ago, he’d had a flesh and blood leg occupying that space. And at least with the leg attached there isn’t that feeling of nothingness beyond mid-thigh. The phantom pains before they’d fitted him with the new leg had been nothing short of terrifying. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “Does it count as lying if I don’t answer at all?” 

Pidge flips the latch and wraps both hands securely around the metal. “Welp, it’s gonna hurt because you’re a big fucking idiot. Maybe this will give you second thoughts about leaving it on all the time. Ready?”

“Can’t you just leave it on?”

“As much as I love your dumb ass self, I came to check on this, so yeah, no.” 

Veronica slips a hand comfortingly into his and squeezes. Lance wants to reject it. He doesn’t need her help. But he knows his sister doesn’t mean to make him feel like he’s weak; she just probably wants to help in some way. He smiles briefly at her. “Yeah, okay, ready, go ahead an-- _hnn, holy quizfuck_ \--”

A bolt of pure scalding heat shoots its way up from the connection point. The pain is nothing like the actual process of losing the damn thing, but he can’t call it remotely pleasant. The feeling passes quickly, though, and Lance looks desperately off to the side and not down. It sucks that Shiro’s arm was basically fused to his skin but he’s kind of jealous of that, too. At least Shiro doesn’t have to pop off his arm like a Barbie socket for Pidge to play with. 

Pidge gets to work with her toolkit, tugging off the plating around the port to jab the wires. Most are attached in some way to nerve endings and that doesn’t feel the greatest either; he sighs haltingly and lets his eyes flutter around the drab room. He should have thought to grab his phone before dropping his pants on the floor, too far away. 

“Do you ever find the irony,” he says, to fill up the quiet that fell, “that the leg I lost is the leg I piloted for Voltron? Because I sure do, and I figure that’s probably why--”

Sharp pinging interrupts him mid sentence, the source originating from Pidge’s bag nearby. She twists around, fumbling with one hand until she finds what she is looking for. Just as deftly, she drops it into Lance’s lap. “Here. Answer that. Occupy yourself.” 

Lance stares at the communicator.

Incoming transmission.

Nope, _nope_ , not happening. “It’s for you, you answer it. Probably your brother.” 

“I’m busy. Don’t ignore it.” 

“But …”

“You can’t ignore them forever, Lance.” She narrows her eyes at him. 

“I sure as hell can.”

“Just …” Pidge sighs, running her fingers over her face. She leaves warpaint grease smudges behind. Lance prays for forgiveness from the skincare gods to spare her the zits. “Just humor me this time. Please.” 

Lance glares at the device in his lap again, willing it to stop making noises. If he doesn’t do anything, he knows Pidge would somehow rig his damn leg or worse, make someone from the castle ship call him. Might as well just get it over with now. 

Before he can chicken out, he thrusts one finger down violently against the flashing button.

Pidge has planned this. She is evil. He’s always known it, but this is just the verification he needs to make it fact. 

Lance can always just hurl the communicator at her head. That would get him out of this situ--

“Pidge!” Shit. “I heard from Matt you’re going to see La--oh. Lance?” 

The holographic screen lights up with Keith’s head and shoulders. He looks … good. As good as always. The mullet is gone, grown out, replaced with a loose, simple braid flung lazily over one shoulder. It’s a look pioneered by Lance after one particular mission with a very grabby Galra soldier. His eyebrows furrow against pale skin, eyes narrowing. 

“I think it’s Lance, anyway? All I can see is a not-Pidge colored hand …” 

Pidge clears her throat pointedly and jams some tweezers just so against a wire. Lance all but yelps. “Ah … uh, yeah, sorry, let me just …” 

After a moment he resettles the device between the wall and the one knee he currently possesses, tilted until Keith can see his face too. Lance very determinedly keeps his gaze away from the half-Galra’s. This is already humiliating enough the way it is. 

“Sooo,” he drawls out after another minute of awkward silence, “Hi. What’s up?”

“Why do you have Pidge’s communicator?” Keith wastes no time in asking, though he probably already knows the answer. 

“She kind of forced it on me? Dunno, she’s busy trying to fry my brain through the nerves in my leg or something. I’m convinced.” 

Pidge glares. “Not how it works, Lance.” 

Keith’s face does that thing it tends to do when they are talking about The Incident, as Lance had fondly referred to it during his recovery. He does it a lot, actually, and he doesn’t want to try to begin to analyze it. Too many what ifs and maybes. “Yeah, she mentioned that’s what the meeting was about. Is it uh … going well?” 

“She just started.” Lance shifts, angling the device around so Keith can see Pidge. “Being all fussy so apparently I still shouldn’t be left alone with alien tech.” Reluctantly he places the communicator back on his knee. “That why you called?”

Keith shrugs. “Kind of? I mean I knew you were going to be there. I may have been calling for you. I talk to Pidge all the time, but you never …” He blinks, leaning forward. “Who’s that with you?” 

Lance jumps. He … forgot anyone else was there with them. It’s so easy to slip back into a world where it’s just _them_ , on a ship, no other humans nearby. But there she is, peering over his shoulder at the holo screen with narrowed eyes. “My sister,” he introduces to Keith. “I brought her with me. This is Veronica.” 

“ _That’s_ Keith?” said sister asks, voice far too shifty for Lance’s liking. “Keith Kogane? From the Garrison?”

“Lance,” Keith sighs in exasperation, “You hated me so much you told your family about me? I knew you had an inferiority complex but I didn’t think it stretched that far.”

“I didn’t--”

Veronica snickers. “I wouldn’t call it hate …”

“Ooookay, that’s enough of that.” And to think he’d _trusted_ her. He’s revoking trusted sibling privileges. “How’s, uh … everyone out there?” 

Keith blinks slowly, leaning closer to his end of the holo screen like that will help him see better. Lance resists the urge to inch back; since when is he _scared_ of Keith? “We’re fine, I guess. Small pockets of Galra resistance keep popping up so we’ve been dealing with that. We thought it was just individual groups but we’re starting to think someone is out here directing them. It’s frustrating.” 

“Why do you think it’s organized?”

“It’s just a hunch. Shiro thinks they’re attacking planets we liberated in the first couple years we were out because we’re more likely to protect them. Which is some bullshit but it’s not wrong. They know they’ve only seen the Red and Black lions.” He frowns, and Lance swallows, guilt clogging his throat. He isn’t the only one back on earth, but he can’t even fly Blue anymore. Unless they find a new Paladin, they won’t be able to form Voltron. “They might be taking advantage of that.” 

“A few stray Galra ships shouldn’t be hard for you, though,” Lance tries. 

He pretends not to notice the small, tight ache in his chest at the thought of going back out into space again. He can’t, he won’t, but he still …

He’s moved on. 

If he tells himself that long enough, he’s sure it will become true. 

“Why did you call last night?” Keith asks suddenly, derailing the conversation. Lance is unsure whether the other man has noticed his sudden discomfort or not, but this is arguably even worse. He blanches immediately.

“I didn’t … I didn’t mean to, I just must have hit the button on accident.” He looks at Veronica. He isn’t lying, not exactly. He’d been heavily debating calling anyway, but the thought was too terrifying to actually go through with it. He’d been right not to call. Talking to Keith now is awkward and just reminds him of all the feelings he’s resolutely decided to throw away. 

Like how badly he wishes he could bicker with Keith again in a false laughingstock of rivalry when really he just wants to jump his bones. 

Keith is quiet for so long after that, Lance thinks he’s run out of things to say. He is just about to call this mockery of a conversation quits, opens his mouth to say goodbye, when Keith finally draws in a breath and says, “You can call just to talk, Lance.” 

He swallows nervously. “I know that.”

“I … what I mean to say is … I’d like it. If you. You know. Called. Pidge and Hunk do all the time but you … I know you don’t want to come back. I don’t want to force you to. I just …”

“Just what?”

“I miss you.” The words come out so quietly Lance almost misses them. Even then, he’s pretty damn convinced he’s misheard. Keith can’t possibly miss him. But then he keeps going, more confidently. “The Castle is so quiet now. I know it was lonely before but you were loud enough for the whole ship. Now it’s just ... “ He makes a gesture off-screen, his shoulder jerking. “It’s like being back in the desert again.” 

Past Lance would have gloated. He would have gloated so hard, and never let Keith live that down. Hell, Lance of six months ago would have gloated. Getting Keith to admit that he actually _missed_ his presence was something he was pretty sure he was only going to hear in one single self-absorbed dream.

But that was the Lance that came before learning that being a royal dick got him nowhere when there were still things he could lose. Things he took advantage of, relied on without really appreciating them. Things like arms and legs and magical robot lions and family. 

Things like Keith. 

He’ll take this bone and cling to it like it’s the last one he’ll ever get. 

So instead of gloating, he smirks and says, “Yeah, okay. I’ll try. But you can bet your ass we’ll get interrupted constantly because my family doesn’t get the meaning of privacy. So as long as you’re alright with that?”

And Keith, bless fuck, downright laughs. “I figure that kind of comes with the territory.” 

They keep talking for a little after that, mostly about nonsense … nothing with any weight to it. Eventually Keith’s device is stolen by Shiro, and Matt, and then Allura and Coran are prying, and … 

Lance doesn’t bring himself to miss it. He keeps everything lighthearted and fun. It’s fantastic to see his space family moving on, and if it’s without him then he isn’t going to be upset because he has his family on earth and that is more than he can ever want.

“Lance,” Pidge speaks into the silence that follows once the connection ends and the holo screen disappears. She speaks tentatively, not raising her head from where she is wrist-deep into the prosthetic’s inner workings. “Since we’re sort of on the subject.” 

He knows, immediately, that he won’t like what she has to say. He keeps quiet, choosing instead to just raise an eyebrow in her general direction. 

“I, uh … I’m going back to the Castle ship. I mean, my brother is there, and …” She draws in a deep breath. “Okay, honestly, I sort of hate it here now. I keep being treated like I don’t know what I’m doing, I have to get permission to mess with _rudimentary_ equipment that doesn’t even compare to what I used to work with. And like, we never got to explore, not really. We were too busy fighting to enjoy the planets and study them. I missed my mom and I know Dad has settled in back on Earth but I don’t fit in anymore. I’d just … rather be out there. On the ship. Being useful again.” 

Lance isn’t surprised, not really. Pidge has always been meant for greater things than what Earth could offer her. The delight she seems to get from working on his prosthetic--just about the only alien tech they have here--makes this more than clear to him. He’s upset, of course, but he’s not disappointed. “That’s fine,” he tells her with a small smile. “They could probably use you. The Garrison definitely doesn’t know how to handle you.” 

She clears her throat, finally looking up. “Hunk’s coming too.” 

Now that … that doesn’t make sense to him. Hunk missed his family just as much as Lance did, was just as eager to come home. He’s told Lance so many times how happy he is working in the bakery. “What?” is all he manages to get out. “Why?”

“It’s … we aren’t the same. None of us are, you know that. We’re too much for this world to handle. We’ve learned too many things. Hunk was trying, Lance, really. He loves the bakery. He just doesn’t see himself staying there.” She sits up, abruptly, snapping the plating back on top of the leg. “He asked me if he could come too. We hoped maybe you might …” 

He’s the only one left. He’s going to be the only one on earth who knows, who experienced everything. All at once Lance feels crushed because he has his family but he’s honestly never felt so alone before in his life. But he worked so, so hard to get to where he is now. He worked so hard to keep his family from suffering like he did, like so many planets and families did. By leaving he’s abandoning everything he’s worked towards. “I can’t,” he whispers, and the words crawl up his throat like scalding fire. 

“Lance,” Veronica says softly, coming into view at his side. Her expression is equal parts hurt and concern. “You know none of us would blame you, and you can visit …”

“It’s not just that,” he answers, looking defeatedly at the wall instead of at either of them. 

Pidge huffs. “You know why Blue won’t let you pilot her.”

“The point is I _can’t_ ,” he snaps, even though they both know why. 

He’s shut Blue out. On purpose, not wanting to face that part of him anymore. Not wanting the temptation. And Blue, in return, has retaliated by making sure he can’t get anywhere near her. 

He knows she is hurt, but he also knows that she can find another Paladin eventually. They both have to get over this. 

“Why are you such an idiot?” Pidge grouses, and Veronica laughs softly.

“I thought he’d at least grown out of that.” 

Lance frowns, but he doesn’t try to gripe back this time. He’s not in the mood. Today has been a day of facing the past he wants to forget, and right now it feels like he’s never going to be able to. “Can I have my leg back?” he sighs.

“Why?” Pidge mutters, “That eager to get rid of me?”

“You know that’s not true. I would never--”

“I was joking, dumbass.” She gets onto her knees and lines up the prosthetic to the port. “Look, just promise me you’ll take care of it this time. I can come visit and tune it but I don’t know when I’ll always get the chance, and the last thing you want is to break it. Take it off. Every day if you can, at least twice a week at minimum. Okay?” 

Lance swallows and nods, and knows he’s not going to be able to hide this from the rest of his family forever. Veronica’s reaction is the best he’s going to get from any of them but he has to do this right. He can’t make himself even more useless by disregarding his own wellbeing. “I’ll try,” he promises her.

Pidge nods back. “This is probably gonna hurt since I was tinkering so keep still for like five minutes. I swear when you do it regularly it won’t bother you.” 

“Just do it,” Lance groans, eager to be done with the whole situation, really. 

She does, and it hurts, but he manages like he always has before. Pidge insists on waiting until he’s sure she hasn’t messed anything up (not that she ever would). She waits until Lance has gingerly stepped over to retrieve his jeans before wrapping her arms around his waist in one more hug. 

“I know you believe you’re making the decision that’s best for you,” she murmures, quietly so Veronica can’t hear, “but if you decide it’s not, we’ll always be there for you. I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he mumbles, but she shakes her head, pressed against his back. 

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

But she doesn’t elaborate, and steps away from him to gather up her toolkit. Lance doesn’t say anything else, not until they part ways, and even then he’s subdued, not wanting to really explain to either Pidge or himself why he’s so upset they’re leaving Earth again. And Veronica stays just as quiet, all the way up until the moment they watch the Green Lion take off, up in the atmosphere and back towards America in seconds. 

“Lance …” Veronica tries.

“Don’t.” 

She speaks again anyway. “They aren’t complete without you.” 

“They can find another Blue Paladin.” Never mind the soul-crushing guilt that fills him every time he thinks of someone other than him flying Blue. The thought doesn’t sit well, and he knows it. 

She doesn’t answer, and Lance takes the opportunity to quickly start walking back towards their house before she can launch some sort of argument against him. He can hear her annoyed sigh but she doesn’t bring it up again. She doesn’t speak again until they are nearly back and the evening wind brings a refreshing coolness to the sweat pooling at Lance’s back.

“How are you going to tell mom about …”

Lance shrugs. “I’m not. Not right now, anyway. Can’t we just y’know … let her be happy I’m back for awhile? I don’t need her to know about what happened.” He slows down, looking at Veronica earnestly. It does feel nice, having someone in his family to talk to about this. But he doesn’t want everyone to know. “It wasn’t just Lotor. So much happened to me, to the other Paladins. Some of it was amazing and some of it was terrifying and I don’t want mom to ask all those questions. You know she will.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.” Her sharp eyes follow him questioningly. “You won’t be able to hide it forever. Someone’s going to see eventually.”

“You’ll just have to help me smooth things over if that happens.” He swallows. “You will, right?”

“Hmm …” She tilts her head. “Dunno. What’s in it for me?”

“Really? You can’t just do it out of love for your favorite brother?”

“Tell me about Keith and I’ll consider taking the fall with you.”

Oh God. Quiznak. Veronica is far too observant for her own good. The Garrison has released a monster back into the McClain household. Lance jerks his head away and starts hauling ass towards the house. “There’s nothing to tell, it was a crush from like, ten years ago.” 

Veronica, naturally, matches him stride for stride. “Yeah but from the way you were acting, it’s not a thing of the past. You looked kinda embarrassed that he was the one that answered. You totally still like him.”

“It’s seriously not like that. We basically pissed on each other the whole time, okay? And if whatever it was I felt for him was real, then it wasn’t ... you know.” Lance makes a gesture. “Returned. Because he never gave any signs. So.”

“Man, you are _oblivious_.”

Lance is half convinced living with Keith for seven years has rubbed off a little too much; the near-constant scowls he’s giving his sister are way too reminiscent of emo mullet man vibes. 

Veronica rolls her eyes. “He said he misses you.”

“I miss him too. As a friend.”

“Friends don’t say they miss each other like that. You were the king of being embarrassingly suave when you left for the Garrison. Don’t tell me all that was just a set up. Or are you all show and no tell?”

Lance is very, very much determined to not continue the conversation. His saving grace comes in the form of the front door of their house flying open, rapid-fast Spanish berating his ears. The rush of familiarity never ceases to relax him, even after being home for three months. Some days all he longed for on the Castle was the sound of his mother yelling love disguised as insults through windows. 

“You were gone so long!” she says, leaning her small body halfway out the screen door. She has a scowl etched onto her face but Lance can see the concern and relief beneath it. Ever since he got back, his mother has barely let him out of her sight for more than an hour. He’s the baby of the family, and they thought he was dead for seven years. She can’t stand to be away from him about as much as he can stand to be away from her. Even if something inside him still hurts. “Did you enjoy your visit with Pidge?”

“It was nice seeing her,” Lance agrees, ignoring Veronica’s “we’ll continue to talk later” glare. “She and Hunk are going back up next week. To space.” 

His mother’s face drops almost immediately. “And you?” she asks, and his heart near breaks at the hurt in her tone. He can’t do that to her. He can’t leave her again to worry about him.

He climbs the porch steps and throws his arms around her tightly, drawing comfort from her vanilla-honey scent. “I’m not going anywhere, _mami_. I’m home.”

“As long as it is what you want,” she answers, being a pacifist. But Lance can hear the quivering relief in her voice as she hugs back. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Uh … actually I …” Lance stops, and looks at Veronica’s pointed expression. Moving on. He’s moving on, and he’s connecting. Today was just step one. He takes a deep breath. “I’m just gonna wash up first, alright? Then I’ll be down.” 

He doesn’t need the Castle to survive. He doesn’t need the Paladins. He doesn’t need Blue.

This is enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for what could be perceived as a small panic attack. I consider it more just shock after a nightmare but I just want to cover all my bases!

Lance makes it a week before he well and truly breaks down. He’s staved it off so far by just … not thinking about any of it, but his visit with Pidge sort of forced him to, and now he can’t. Stop. Thinking.

About Lotor, about Zarkon, about the Castle and his space family and Keith. About Blue. 

He puts it off by applying for jobs and walking across the beach and exercising and training even though he doesn’t need to. It’s become therapeutic. He doesn’t use his bayard--it won’t respond to him--but he borrows the small pistol his family owns and sets up targets along the beach. He misses his sniper rifle, but he can’t do anything about that. So he shoots, and hits every target because they don’t even fucking move, and his brother Marco sometimes stands beside him gaping open mouthed at his accuracy. 

Old Lance would have boasted unendingly about his skills, but now he just winks at his brother and says, “They didn’t just call me the team sharpshooter for my good looks.” 

He doesn’t think about the fact that he feels safest with the comforting weight of a gun in his hands, because for years now he knows that survival means keeping a hold of his weapon. He’s safe here, on Earth, so why should it matter if he has one or not? 

He eats dinner with his family, wondering when he’ll stop going through the motions of being entertained by his siblings and actually start relaxing again in the presence of them. Veronica’s due to go back to the Garrison in just two weeks. He can’t use her to ground himself. 

After dinner, Lance takes a deep breath and flips the lock to his bedroom door. Even with Pidge’s warning he hasn’t taken the prosthetic off to let it breathe, because he’s so afraid he’ll be found out. But tonight he locks his door, knowing that in a few hours his mother will try to come in. She does every night, when she thinks he’s sleeping, like she has to make sure he’s still alive and breathing and here. 

He gets it. He really does, and he appreciates her even more than before. 

But if he wants to stay on Earth, not dependent on Pidge and her technology, he has to take care of himself. 

There’s a message on his communicator, and he hesitates just a moment before playing it. He knows what day it is, knows he’s being left on his own again. Lance tells himself it’s okay. 

“Hey, Lance,” Hunks voice sounds. Lance swallows and goes to change into his pajamas, letting his best friend’s voice echo in the room while he does. “I hope you aren’t too disappointed in me. I know we had plans, man. To finally settle down and find ourselves. But the thing is, I think I already found myself, on the Castle. I’ve always wanted to be helpful. I like being a support for the team. And the bakery is great, but it’s not what I want to do. I think of planets like the Balmera, and how glad they were that we saved them. And like, holy Quiznak, it’s so fulfilling.”

Hunk found his calling on the Balmera. Lance knows this, he’s known it from the start. How ironic, then, that the timid, nervous person from the Garrison would turn into someone who adapted to life in space with more grace than … well, honestly, any of the others (Keith aside). So he understands, even if the knowledge makes him sad. Hunk had a place on the team, he still does. And maybe Lance used to think he was the fifth wheel, but he knows he has his place too. 

He knows he feels everything too deeply, and he knows he’s letting them down by not going back. 

But he _can’t_. 

“Anyway, I didn’t want to talk you into coming with, or anything. It’s okay if you don’t. You struggled the entire time, you always wanted to go home at the end. I think … I think for you, becoming a pilot was a process. An adventure, but one you always planned on coming back from.” Hunk pauses, takes an audible breath. “I just wanted you to know that if you ever change your mind, we’ll be waiting. Doesn’t matter if it’s a couple weeks, a couple months, ten years from now. You’re always welcome back into the space fam. It won’t be the same without you. Also. You better call me back sometimes, bro. I gotta make sure you’re still kicking. You like to do this thing where you think you’re being a bother, so you don’t say anything, but I don’t wanna let that happen.” Hunk chuckles, and Lance shuts his eyes, can imagine the warm smile creasing Hunk’s face. “But yeah, just … don’t make yourself a stranger. I’m gonna go now, or Pidge might leave without me. Love you, Lance. Be yourself, man.”

Lance isn’t going to cry. He’s not, because crying just means he’s giving in. He’s happy here. Or, he’s going to be. And Hunk will be happy in space. And they can always visit, he knows they will visit. He won’t be left alone, not really.

He blows out softly, running his fingers through his hair, before settling down in his bed. He flips the latch and twists, grunting in discomfort as his prosthetic comes loose. He shoves the offending limb under his bed and buries himself in his covers, yanking them above his head to block out the glow in the dark stars splattered across his ceiling. 

It takes a disconcertingly long time for his heart to stop pounding before he can sleep. 

Not that sleep is any better. 

With sleep comes dreams, dreams of beautiful planets and the intense satisfaction of forming Voltron. 

With sleep comes explosions, and a Galran prince standing over him, sword in hand. 

With sleep comes _blood, falling in a flood from the open gash in Lotor’s stomach and puddling under Lance’s body._

_A luxite knife in Lance’s trembling hand, covered in red._

_Lotor, grinning at him even while he dies, believing he still won._

_Knowing Lance would be haunted by that moment for the rest of his life._

_“I hope killing me was worth it, Blue Paladin,” he taunts, voice gurgling with blood as it rises in his throat and suffocates him._

_There’s blood everywhere, on everything, leaving Lotor, leaving him, more and more and more until_

Lance jerks upright in bed swearing, clammy hands and rattling breaths. He doesn’t always dream of Lotor but when he does, it’s … he doesn’t know how to handle it. He’s disoriented, and feels like vomiting, and the room is way too hot so if he can just go outside and _breathe_ he can calm down and forget again. He scrambles out of his covers and gets out of bed and--

And falls straight to the floor, because of _course_ he forgot that he only has one fucking leg so he can’t even walk. The phantom feeling in his right leg is even worse than the nightmare because he’s half convinced it’s still there, but when he looks down all he can see is a flat, empty pajama pant curled and crumpled beneath him. 

This is why he hasn’t taken the prosthetic off. 

This is why he pretends it never happened at all. 

Lance whimpers, and hates himself for it, and gasps into the old floorboards while he continues to feel what isn’t even fucking there. 

He could call for Veronica or his mother, but his door is locked and he can’t stand the thought of crawling over to it just like he can’t stand that he lacks the coordination with his shaking hands to reattach the fake limb. And he can’t let his mother see him like this. 

But he can’t stand to be alone, not anymore. 

So he breaks, and reaches for the communicator sitting on the bedside table, and before he can talk himself out of being stupid he presses the call button. 

_Let it be Hunk, please let it be Hunk--_

“Lance?” 

Keith. Of course it’s Keith. It’s almost like he senses when Lance least wants to deal with him. 

He should hang up, or just ask for Hunk, but he can’t even find the energy inside of him to do that much so he drags his fingers through his sweaty hair and honest to God just presses his face back into the floor. He doesn’t answer. Maybe Keith will get the hint. 

He doesn’t, naturally. 

“Lance, are you …” He trails off, probably realizing he can’t see anything. Lance doesn’t have the communicator angled in a way that the holo screen will pick him up, and he doesn’t make any move to change that. He doesn’t move at all, really, except to shake and try to breathe on the floor. Eventually Keith must have picked up on the noise, because he continues talking a minute later. “Are you okay?” 

His voice is soft and nothing like the way Keith usually speaks, but he’s become more eloquent and sure of himself in recent years. The clear concern in his tone is what makes Lance slowly remove his fingers from his hair and choke out, “Can you just … just talk for a few? Please?”

Keith inhales softly, and at first doesn’t respond. He’s asked too much of him, apparently. He’s going to leave him alone again, going to leave like everyone else has so far--

“Do you want … I … um.” He clears his throat, then launches into a story about how Shiro has been doing the cooking since Hunk has been gone, and how in the first hour of Hunk’s return to the castle, he was all but kicked out, because the whole area was a disaster and Hunk had the whole room strategically organized before they beat Lotor, so …

Lance just listens, shutting his eyes and taking in the way Keith’s tone turns fond whenever he talks about Shiro, how he gets just a little more animated when he’s retelling the yelling, and how happy he sounds that Hunk and Pidge are back. Keith and Pidge had struck up an unlikely close friendship during the war; he knows Keith feels more at home now than ever. 

He doesn’t realize Keith has fallen silent until the other man calls out a quiet, timid, “Lance?”

Lance draws in a long, trembling breath, finally shifting his head to look at the holo screen. Keith’s eyes are focused on the screen, his brows furrowed into angled points. He’s biting at his bottom lip, a habit Lance is more prone to than he is. He must be worried. One more breath, and he finally sits up, pressing his hands to the floor for leverage until he’s facing the holo screen directly. Keith lets out a sharp exhale, dark eyes trailing over Lance’s face. If anything, his eyebrows just crowd into the space between his eyes even more than before. 

“Sorry,” Lance stutters, not really sure how to address the elephant in the room. “I just … I … sorry.” 

“You look like shit,” Keith says, and the comment is so offhandedly _him_ that Lance can’t help the desperate little chuckle that bubbles up from his chest. “Bad dream?”

He nods wordlessly.

More hesitantly, Keith offers, “Lotor?”

Lance nods again, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. This is embarrassing. Keith probably doesn’t have time to worry about his problems, much less something as lame as a nightmare. He shouldn’t have called.

“I have bad dreams about him too,” Keith offers instead, and Lance snaps his head up to meet his eyes in surprise. Keith Kogane, actually reacting to things? Quiznak, what happened to them all? 

Lance swallows past the lump in his throat and manages, “But you weren’t even in there. You were still in the cell.”

Keith shakes his head. “That’s not what mine are about. I just … won’t ever be able to forget Pidge yelling for help, and then actually seeing you. Seeing what he …” Keith trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish the sentence. 

Lance looks down at his empty right pant leg and shudders. “He could have done worse,” he says, but it’s a poor comfort. They both know it. 

“Why did you call the ship?” Keith asks then, frowning a little. “Instead of your family?”

“It’s late” isn’t a good excuse, and neither is “I didn’t want to bother them.” Lance looks at the blinking blue light on the communicator, frowning slightly. “I never told them,” he finally answers, being truthful. He’s called Keith, so he might as well actually talk. It’s helping. “About Lotor. Veronica knows about it, but not about … none of them know I have nightmares. I don’t think.” Quieter, he adds, “And the door is locked. I don’t uh … have the … thing on right now. Pidge told me to take it off sometimes.” 

Keith, perhaps wisely, doesn’t comment on the last thing Lance said. “I don’t get it. Why haven’t you told them? About any of it, really? Do you not want to bother them?”

Lance leans against the side of his bed, debating what to say. Almost all of it is self-debilitating, but he’s sure Keith knows that. He’s sure Keith will try to talk him out of that kind of thinking, because he always has before. “I don’t want them to worry,” is what he finally comes up with, hoping Keith won’t see through him. 

He does anyway. “It’s okay to be different than before, Lance. Anyone would be, after what we went through. None of us are the way we were when we first left Earth. The Garrison lied and let them think you were dead this entire time. And they … know you aren’t really okay. You know that, right? They aren’t going to believe you came back totally fine.”

“That’s not … I …” He sighs, bangs his head against the mattress. “I don’t want to be treated any different.” Now _he’s_ chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to be treated like I’m not … you know?”

Keith’s eyes widen slightly. He knows. “You’re not broken, Lance, or fragile. Anyone who can take out Lotor after getting an injury like that is the exact opposite.”

“I know that. You know that. But they won’t know that.” He knows his family, and he knows they all feel just as deeply as he does. It won’t matter what he’s done. “All they’re going to see is what’s left. That’s why I only told Veronica. She’s with the Garrison now, so she knows … she understands the most. Out of all of them.”

“It’s up to you, Lance,” Keith says eventually. His eyebrows have smoothed out by now, his expression one of honest concern. Lance has no idea what sort of day and night cycle they’re currently on in the castle, but he appreciates Keith taking the time to talk to him. “I think you should tell them. They’re going to find out eventually, and at least telling them means it’s on your terms.” 

“It’s been three months and they haven’t figured it ou--”

“Lance?”

His eyes widen at the sound of his mother calling his name. Of course someone would have heard him fall onto the floor. He didn’t even think … He looks at Keith intently, urging him to stay silent. Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s down a fucking leg and his mom is going to want to come in if he doesn’t answer the door. She’ll find out the door is locked, she’ll …

Keith makes a jerky motion with his head that may or may not mean he needs to go deal with the problem. 

“Just a second,” he calls out, to stall mostly. Lance hauls himself upright using the bed as a crutch, glancing down at himself. His pajamas don’t quite fit; they’re a little too large, bunching down at his foot. Just the way he likes them. If he’s careful, she won’t notice a thing. He looks at Keith one more time, mostly out of desperation, but he just gets a shrug in response. Of course bastard Keith would make a reappearance at this moment. 

What a dick. 

Lance hops the few feet to the door, looks down to check that he’s covered one more time, and undoes the lock. He leans his right hip against the doorframe as he opens the door, using it to steady himself and as a shield. As long as she doesn’t look down. 

“Are you okay?” his mother asks immediately, searching his face like she can find all of the answers waiting right there for her. She probably can, but Lance pretends anyway. “There was a loud noise.” 

“Yeah, I uh … was having a weird dream.” A half-truth, then. Since Keith was so keen on him telling everyone how fucked up his life has become. “Fell out of bed waking up. Sorry I woke you.” Lance tries a smile. “Don’t worry about it, _mami_ , just go back to sleep.”

She raises her eyebrow, and Lance quickly grips the doorknob before she can think about busting her way into the room. She’d find out about his leg, and she’d see the communicator turned on. He’s not ready to tell her yet. “A weird dream?” she asks, her face twisting into something akin to pity. The exact sort of face Lance doesn’t want. He holds onto his smile, but internally, he’s cringing. Trying not to let it bother him. “You know you can tell me about it, _mijo_. If it helps.”

“No, really, I’m fine. I’m just sorry you heard it.” He lets the smile fall, because he doesn’t have it in him to lie to his mother like this. Not for so long. “You don’t have to keep checking up on me. I know you are.” 

“Of course I have to,” she answers determinedly. “I can’t help but be worried.” She means to be caring, to be loving, but when she says, “I know you grew up, but to me you’ll always be my baby boy,” it hurts. She’s not going to see him as he is. Only as he was. 

He knows seven years means that she only remembers him like he was before he left Earth. Logically it makes sense that she would still see him in that way. But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s grown up, just like anyone else would. 

Lance lets out a shuddering sigh, leaning his hip further against the wall. His left leg hurts from putting so much pressure on it. “I lived this long,” he tells her, knowing he sounds bitter. He can’t seem to get rid of the tone. “Earth is safer than half of the planets we landed on, _mami_. If I could survive there, I can get through the night without you wasting your own sleep to open my door at night. I’m fine.” 

There are a lot of things Lance regrets doing in his life.

He regrets being an obnoxious jackass to Keith in the years before they grew close. 

He regrets all the times he wasn’t fast enough to protect a teammate from injury in the field.

He regrets--to some extent--flying away in a big blue lion and abandoning his family.

And at this moment, he regrets the words that have just come out of his mouth as his mother’s face goes from open, imploring, to completely hurt within seconds. He wants to say he didn’t mean it, that she can check on him whenever she wants because he understands why she can’t help it. He wants to apologize. 

Instead he bites his lip as his mother softly bids him a good night and turns to go back downstairs. 

Lance shuts his door, locks it once more, and sinks down to the floor with a loud groan. Seven years and he’s still not mature enough to know when he’s being too much of an asshole.

“Well,” Keith says, startling him because he completely forgot the communicator was still on, “You fucked up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update this week; retail blows when you have to work nights!

Lance knows what he needs to do. He knows, but for weeks he puts it off anyway, because he doesn’t want to deal with it. The whole thing really is his fault. If he hadn’t been so rude, then maybe he could have kept his secrets for longer. But the atmosphere between him and the rest of the family is shaky at best, and he hates feeling like he doesn’t belong. He’s already felt it this entire time, to some extent, but this is just miserable. 

Even Veronica, who knows, sent him angry looks all the way up until the moment she left to return to the Garrison. 

Now that she’s gone, he feels even more alone.

He keeps talking to Keith. He’s not sure why or how that one desperate call turned into a regular thing, but the next night good ole mullet called back to check in on him and well … it became a coping mechanism. 

At least Keith listened. At least Keith seemed to try to make him feel like he wasn’t fighting his entire family.

He doesn’t understand, really, when he and Keith became close. They’d formed a steady partnership over the years, for sure. Lance and Keith, neck and neck, had become an undeniable force in the field. Shiro always sent them on missions together. They rarely failed. When they did, they protected each other. 

Lance wonders if maybe Keith blames himself for Lotor, even though he couldn’t do a damn thing. Because he’s figured out that’s how Keith is. Keith is like him. Everything invariably becomes his own burden. 

And maybe that’s why they became so much closer, in the end. Lance thinks it happened the day he fell out of the cryopod, one leg down and about five thousand insecurities higher. Keith followed him around like a shadow, after that. He didn’t become overbearing, he didn’t make Lance dependent on him. He seemed to know that wasn’t what he wanted. He just … helped. A lot. A hand steadying him as he wobbled, a pass of a cup when Lance didn’t feel like hobbling the four steps to the kitchen counter. 

Keith was just there. Like he happened to be now, listening and talking and just … existing, really.

Fuck if that doesn’t make Lance’s old crush flare back to life brighter than a quiznakking supernova. 

His plans after coming home are spiralling, anyway. He can’t land a job. He could lie on the applications, say that he’s perfectly fine and hardworking and all of that. But he knows how easy it is for him to slip up, so he hesitantly adds to each form he fills out that he never fucking graduated, that he has insomnia and PTSD and anxiety. And no one calls him back. He knows they won’t. 

He can defend the entire fucking universe from a ten thousand year old evil alien, but being able to snipe a Galra soldier hundreds of yards away doesn’t mean he can wait tables at the nearest local restaurant. Apparently.

There’s a prickling in the back of his mind that feels sentient. It probably is. It’s probably Blue, trying to break down the barrier he’s put up between them. Probably trying to tell him how much of an idiot he’s being. He’s not going to feel at home until he comes to terms with himself. He can hear her now, or, well, the mind voice he pretends Blue has when he’s particularly bored. _Stop being a pussy and man up_ , he’s pretty sure she’d say if she could talk. 

He still hasn’t gone to see her. She wouldn’t let him in either way, but … but she was still so very important to him. Family, even. He never thought he’d consider his own ship a part of his family, but honestly, weirder things had happened before returning to Earth. Maybe one day soon. 

Maybe when he’s accepted the part of himself that’s still afraid to let her go. 

Lance comes down for breakfast in the morning blearily. He stayed up half the night talking to Keith again, about nonsense more or less. The daily life on the ship, what failures Lance has experienced since the last time they chatted. That drowsiness, combined with the fact that he’s just reattached his prosthetic, are the combined factors that cause him to trip over the third step from the bottom. There’s a moment of floatiness before his entire right leg locks up, sending him careening towards the linoleum floor. A broken nose is definitely high up on the list of priorities he needed to get done for the day, apparently. 

His fall is stopped by Marco, though, bulky arms hoisting him upright before he has a chance to faceplant. In an instant, his mother and Luis are there too, fretting over him like he’s three again. Marco even has the gall to ask, “Is it some sort of war wound? Should you be aggravating it?” which is the most humiliating part of all of this. 

“I just tripped,” Lance tries not to snap, gingerly lowering his right foot to the ground again. Pidge warned him that it might lock up for awhile, in instances like that. The nerves act like they are attached to an actual leg, for the most part, but sometimes he forgets and things just sort of … stop working correctly. Unfortunately, his family notices his ginger actions. 

“You look exhausted,” his mother frets, “Come sit down.” 

Lance clenches his fists at his sides and doesn’t bother to answer this time. He hates this, hates it hates it hates it --

“What,” he asks slowly, trying to channel some inner Shiro deep within, “do you think happened to me out there? What do you think I did every day in space?”

The three of them still, watching Lance nervously. They’re getting what they want, what Keith wants him to do, because he can’t do this. He can’t let them act like he’s some sort of invalid, like he can’t function without help. Because he can. Because he _has_. 

They don’t answer, because they don’t have a real explanation for what they think. When they think of war, they think of Earth. They think of soldiers in the military, who fight until they’re injured, then get to go home. 

“My first week in space,” he tells them, “I got blown up.” 

His mother claps a hand to her mouth. His brothers take a step away from him, their expressions pained. Lance doesn’t stop there, even though his hands are trembling now. 

“We hosted a party for the locals, and the Galra took advantage of our open doors. They sent a bomb inside the castle, disguised as Pidge’s reprogrammed drone.” Lance meets each of their eyes. “I don’t remember most of it. Just confusion and pain, and one minute of clarity when I got to be a badass and save someone. And a day later, I went back in the field.” 

“But you were injured,” Marco whispers. “You were just a kid.” 

Lance nods. “The Alteans have something called a cryopod. They shut you inside, freeze you like a popsicle, and it speed heals you. Cryostasis. A day or two in the pod and all you’re left with is a nasty scar. Would’ve been great to rest a little after all that, but it wasn’t possible.” He turns around pointedly and lifts the back of his shirt to show them his back. The scars have faded, somewhat, but they are still there. He doesn’t regret them. If he hadn’t been in his paladin armor, he would have died. Coran never would have stood a chance. 

When Lance turns back around and takes a seat on the staircase, he’s calmer. He knows he needs to tell them. They’ll never understand him otherwise. They’re already looking at him with a mixture of fear and distress. 

He draws in a breath, taps his fingers against his left knee. “The Galra were in control for over ten thousand years. No one had the strength to beat them, and the only weapon capable of doing that was scattered. Then I decided to sneak out of the Garrison, saw a ship fall from the sky, stole Takashi Shirogane from my own superiors, and flew into space in a giant sentient robot ship shaped like a lion. At seventeen. Pidge was fourteen. Hunk couldn’t handle a flight simulator without vomiting, and he was piloting a ship. Shiro was tortured for a year and lost an arm.” His jaw clenches. “Keith was the only one even remotely holding it together, because he’s fucking perfect at everything. But the point is, we were five messed up Humans, and we were the only ones with the power to stop the Galra. So we were shoved into a war we didn’t know a damn thing about, with no experience to back us up.” 

“Oh, Lance …” Marco murmurs, a hand resting on their mother’s shoulder. They’re still pitying him. That’s fine. He’s not done.

“We couldn’t _stop_. We couldn’t just give up because we got hurt once. Pidge had to find her family. Hunk and I needed to go home. Keith and Shiro didn’t even have anything to go home to. And then Allura and Coran … they lost everything. Their whole planet was gone. We became their family, because they didn’t have anything else.” His heart is pounding now. “Five humans and two Alteans against a ten thousand year old dynasty. Giving up meant losing Earth to the same thing that destroyed Altea and thousands of other planets. So we couldn’t stop, even if we wanted to. We couldn’t stop until we were dead.” 

He did die once, but he doesn’t say that. He wants to get his point across, but he doesn’t want to scare them more than he has to. He doesn’t tell them that he knows what dying feels like. He’s felt that final moment of clarity before the last puff of breath, and it’s changed him. He’s not as afraid anymore. Not of death, anyway. 

“Why couldn’t you just come home?” Luis asks, voice tight. “You had a ship, you had a way. You didn’t have to fight.”

“You don’t think I wanted to?” He doesn’t hide the strain in his voice, the harshness in his tone. “There wasn’t a moment out there that I didn’t think of coming home, letting you know I was alive. But I was a Paladin of Voltron. Number one undesirable according to the enemy. All they needed was one of us going home for a visit, and they’d know what planet we came from. They would have taken Earth, and conquered it, and killed our families in front of us. I stayed and fought for you. For everyone on Earth, but especially for you. I couldn’t lose all of you because I was selfish enough to go see you.” 

They don’t ask him more questions, because they’re finally getting it. The severity of what happened before he came back to them. He’s done trying to be his old self. Naive, annoying, too innocent for his own good. His fingers twist down, grasping at the hem of fabric on his right leg. 

“The war is over, and I’m home, but I still can’t … I won’t just take it easy. I don’t have that privilege. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be treated like an injured soldier. I just want to be treated like everyone else.” He looks at his mother, almost pleadingly. “I missed you, so much, _mami_. Every day. I wanted to come home. But I think I missed the familiarity more than anything else. The feeling of belonging, you know?” He’s going to chicken out. He’s not going to show them. This is enough, isn’t it? Telling them this? “I’m not going to break. I already did, out there, and I put myself back together. So please just …” 

He’s grown up, is all he’s trying to say. He’s grown up, and experienced things they can’t even imagine, and he doesn’t want to be treated like he’s not up to par with everyone else. 

He is tackled into a tight hug, his mother’s strong arms encircling him around the shoulders and clinging desperately. “ _Lo siento_ , Lance,” she whispers, and he can tell that she understands, now. He reaches out slowly to hug her back. “You’ve grown so strong. I am so proud of you. I hope you know that.” She shudders out a breath, and adds, “I’m just happy to have you home in one piece again.”

He stills at that, arms falling to his sides. He’s found his out, now, he doesn’t have to show them. But he also doesn’t want to lie about himself anymore. He wants to feel wholly comfortable in his home again. “What if I didn’t?” he asks cautiously, as a leeway. Keith would be proud of him. No, scratch that. Keith would call him an idiot for waiting this long to talk about it. He’s not wrong. 

“If you didn’t what?” his mom asks, leaning back with a frown.

“If I didn’t come back in one piece. Would that have made a difference?”

“But you did,” Marco points out, “so why does it matter?”

Luis adds, “But, hypothetically, I guess not. I mean Shiro has a robot arm, right? And that’s kind of cool. And Hunk lost a couple toes, didn’t he?” He looks down, like he can see through Lance’s shoe. “Did you lose a toe? Is that why you tripped?” 

When Lance doesn’t immediately reply (they’re not _entirely_ wrong), his mother pulls back, her eyes darting over his entire body too. They’re probably putting it all together now. Why he doesn’t swim anymore, why he never wears shorts. “What are you hiding?” she finally asks. 

“I mean, yeah, I lost a toe,” he finally stammers out, because it’s now or never, and if he doesn’t say anything now they’re going to be even worse than before. “Or like. Toes. Plural. And. Um.” 

Lance wiggles his foot out of his shoe, bends over to tug off his sock, and pulls his pant leg up as high as it can go. Then he waits. 

For the longest time, there’s nothing but silence. He can’t bring himself to look up at their faces. Especially his mother’s. 

Then, quite predictably, Marco speaks up first. Probably because he’s a little bit dumb, and mostly in total denial. “Why’s your leg covered in metal?” 

Lance huffs; if this were any other situation, he would have outright laughed at the insinuation. Instead he looks up and meets his brother’s traumatized gaze. “It’s not there, Marco.” 

“ _Mami_ \--” Luis breathes, moving in the corner of Lance’s eye. 

Suddenly, it’s too much. He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to know what they think of it. He’s told them, right? That’s what the others wanted him to do, and he’s done it, so he can go hide and panic on his own now. Resolutely, breaths choking in his throat, he bends down, snatches his shoe, and whirls around to go back upstairs. 

He thinks someone calls after him, but he doesn’t slow back down until he’s in his room, locking the door behind him. For a moment he stands there, against the door, staring down at sleek metal. Pidge, Hunk, Allura, and Coran had worked tirelessly on the limb; every fucking toe is perfect. It’s shaped just like Lance’s natural leg was supposed to, not like Shiro’s. It moves and functions just like a real one would. It isn’t completely foreign. It’s just a leg. Not _his_ leg, but still. 

There are just some things that he can’t reverse, no matter how much he wants to. He sacrificed a limb to win a war, but he’s never regretted it until this moment. 

There’s only one thing that can come close to comfort for him right now, and he can’t … 

Lance looks at his nightstand, and the bayard resting on top. 

Even if she won’t let him in, he has to see her again. 

It takes him less than a minute to yank his shoe back on and snag both his bayard and the communicator from their spots. He doesn’t bother going back downstairs, and feels giddy satisfaction as he flawlessly climbs out of his second-story window to land on the grass below. How long has it been since he’s had a strenuous mission? Since he’s needed to make use of his flexible body to fight his way out of precarious situations? There’s a grim sort of satisfaction in being able to still do it. 

The last time he saw Blue was the first time in seven years he stepped foot on Earth’s soil. She’d tolerated his descent, then spat him out, threw up a barrier, and refused him any further access. At the time, he’d been fine with it. Lance didn’t need the blue lion anymore. He didn’t need space anymore. 

Now he realizes just how stupid he’d been, the entire time. He might not need her, but she became family to him, just like everything else. He might not need her, but he wants her. He doesn’t need to go to space to seek her. 

He left her in a shallow cave on an island in the sea, close enough to swim from but far enough that no ordinary tourists or locals can find her. It’s not that he hasn’t been swimming because he can’t; Pidge built his prosthetic with his love for water in mind. He hasn’t been swimming because he didn’t want anyone to see it. Now it doesn’t really matter. He pulls off his clothes as he approaches the edge of the beach, leaving nothing but boxers. Several locals stop and stare (because robot legs are cool, he reminds himself resolutely), but he ignores them in favor of a quick stretch. 

He shuts his eyes as he does, nervously reaching out with his mind towards that bit he’s been suppressing. He’s tried to push her out entirely, but Blue is like a leech. She’s locked herself away from him because he’s done the same to her, but she’s still there, refusing to abandon him. Like she knew all along that one day he’d come running back to her, like he is. He doesn’t have to forsake his family to include her in his life. 

And Lance went and abandoned her, because he’s a piece of shit. 

She’s there, like always, boxed away and pawing at his consciousness to get him to back off. He thinks she’s noticed something is different, though, because his heart thuds with a full and determined passion, like she’s expecting him to come back to her. Like she’s ready to hear his apology. 

The communicator is waterproof as well, so he grips it firmly in one hand and begins to wade into the ocean. People are definitely staring now. At his leg, at his back, at the myriad of scars that make up his body. Most of the people here on Varadero know him, or what became of him. The area has always been close-knit. He doesn’t know any of them anymore, but he’s a legend, according to his siblings. Too bad none of them want to hire him instead of stare at him. 

Once he’s deep enough he swims, pushing against the tide until he’s into steady, deep water. He’s been exercising and training when he gets the chance, for no reason other than to keep up the toned body he built up over the years, but he can’t deny how good it feels to be challenged, to feel the burn in his muscles as he pulls long strokes in the water. Lance slips into the mindless motions, eyes locked on the distant lump of land his lion has been hidden on. The trip isn’t nearly as easy as he remembers it being. Excitement replaced with nervousness, maybe. Or he just needs to exercise more. 

It takes him nearly half an hour to reach the small island, which is kind of sad, considering he made the swim in half the time before. But if … if this works then he’ll make the trip more often. 

Blue’s presence in his head is louder now, because she knows he’s coming. Still wary, of course. He shakes his head in a fruitless attempt to dry off, but he’s near-naked and there are blankets in the cockpit if she’ll let him in. He’ll manage for a bit. Lance hesitantly steps into the cave, deeper and deeper until he comes face to face with an impenetrable barrier. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, looking up at her. His heart swells with something akin to love. He _missed_ her. He missed his fucking sentient robot cat, and he can’t find it in himself to be resentful like he used to be. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be connected to her again. 

She swats him away angrily with her mind, although Lance is sure she’s secretly preening over the nickname. Of course she is. She’s always loved being pampered. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, and though she doesn’t budge, Lance knows she’s looking right at him. He can feel the icy burn from her gaze. “I mean, you already knew I was impulsive and stupid when you chose me, but I guess this kind of takes the cake. I didn’t mean to shut you out. Well, I … did, I guess. And I never should have done that. I thought I didn’t need you, I thought I could move on without you. And I could, if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. So can I please just …”

She doesn’t move, doesn’t show any signs of relenting in her steadfast denial of his existence. It’s only fair, Lance supposes. For nearly four months he’s done exactly the same thing to her. He’ll always be sorry for shutting her out. For the rest of his life. 

He doesn’t know how to appeal to her, except to start over.

He reaches out, pressing his fingers against the edge of the particle barrier. It’s tight and unrelenting. Nothing can get through it, not unless Blue wants it to. 

Lance draws in a deep breath and whispers, “Maybe you just have to knock.”

Fingers trembling, he turns his palm, rapping his knuckles against the barrier. 

Nothing happens, for a minute, and Lance wonders if she just needs time to accept him again. He doesn’t want to leave, but if she doesn’t want him--

The barrier drops just like it did that first day, cascading down around him like waves. Blue finally moves, twisting her body and lowering her head. Lance gasps in relief as the block in his mind falls as well. The brunt of Blue’s emotions hit him all at once: anger, bitterness, love, relief, _guilt_ \--

“Hey,” he scrambles to say, rushing forward to place his hands on the cool metal of her front paw. “Hey, no, no guilt. None of this was your fault. I was just being a dick, you know? I didn’t want to listen to you.” 

Her paw lifts in a motion that shoves Lance backwards. He should be offended, but he knows she’s just roughhousing, playing with him. Even that motion makes him feel a million times better than he did at home. Blue doesn’t treat him like he’s going to snap in two if the wind blows in his direction. She knows what he needs. She always does. 

Lance smiles, taking a moment to just look again. Coming to see Blue feels disconcertingly like coming back home. Not like coming back to Cuba, but coming to a place where he belongs. He doesn’t stew in those thoughts for long; he’s already told himself he isn’t going to look back. There’s only moving forward, and he can do that with Blue. He knows that now. 

Eventually he moves, bare feet slapping against the cold metal of Blue’s ramp. He climbs into the cockpit slowly, like he can’t quite believe he’s back here again. He didn’t want to see it again. He doesn’t understand why he would ever want to not be back in here. Blue’s consciousness wraps around him like the warmest blanket, weighty and comforting. All of his worries just melt away. 

His green jacket is still where he left it, slung half folded against the back of the pilot’s seat. It’s mostly in tatters; one of the only pieces of Earth clothing he’d had with him for seven years. He’s honestly amazed it lasted the entire time. Coran patched it for him, time and time again. It barely fits anymore. Lance’s shoulders grew broader over the years thanks to age and training. He reaches out and pulls it on anyway, letting it rest across the expanse of his back. The swim has made him chilly, and Blue’s cockpit has a tendency to be chilly, like her element. 

Lance drops down into the pilot’s seat. Blue comes alive inside, the entire cockpit flooding with light as systems boot up and screens pull up. He has no intention of flying her, not right now, but to see her so responsive to him even now, his heart floods with gratitude and pride. One day, someone else will learn to fly Blue, carry on the legacy of Voltron. But Lance and Blue are both selfish; they both care too much for one another to give away the reins right now. Lance thought he was ready to do that, but he’s not. He’s Blue’s paladin, and she’s his lion. They are connected in a way no others can be. 

They belong to each other, until one or the other has no choice but to part. 

The chair is big enough for Lance to curl up in, pulling his legs up into the seat. He wraps both arms around his knees and leans back against the headrest. Then he just … doesn’t move. He lets Blue in without restraint, lets her see what he’s been dealing with back at home. He lets her comfort him. 

He did this back on the castle ship all the time: hole himself up inside of Blue for hours and hours, letting her soothe his homesickness and his anxiety. He used to let her soothe his nightmares, let her listen while he screamed his frustrations into the cockpit. She’s seen every ugly side of Lance and she still loves him. 

Now she lets him stay, hide, whatever it is he’s doing. She lets him work through everything he’s been feeling. The lions don’t speak words, not like they do. They speak in images, emotions, rumbles and nudges. She doesn’t need to say a word for Lance to understand what she is getting at. 

He needs to figure himself out, and he needs to be at peace with himself.

Blue gives him all the time in the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the double post; my formatting was off with this chapter!

Eventually, Lance has to move; his lack of clothes and the chilly metal of his prosthetic have him shivering in his chair. He gets up long enough to dig into a small compartment for the blanket he stashed. After being stranded his fair share of times over the years, he learned to pack for emergencies. Blankets, matches, the like. There’s a particularly fluffy one hidden inside that he snatches and retreats back to the chair with. 

Lance knows a lot of time has probably passed; he should go home, let them know he’s alive or something. But he doesn’t want to leave the encompassing safety of being in his lion, and he knows a night outside of his stifling bedroom will do him some good. 

Just as he’s adjusting his chair, his communicator indicates an incoming call. With everything that happened, Lance forgot entirely about his nightly call with Keith. He scrambles to unclip the device from where he’s stored it and hits accept before Keith gets the idea he’s ignoring him. After a moment’s hesitation, he flicks a switch, and Blue’s control panel flicks to life as the holo screen shifts to a projection. This way he won’t have to awkwardly hold the communicator in his lap. 

Keith’s mouth is already open in greeting, but he freezes, blinking in confusion a few times. He’s probably gotten used to seeing Lance’s disaster of a bedroom now. 

“Are you in Blue?” he asks fiercely after a minute, dark eyes narrowing in on Lance. 

“We had a little chat,” Lance answers succinctly, blinking back at Keith like this is a normal thing. “She let me in. Or something. More like I let her back in.” 

He looks at the other paladin while Keith processes this information. He looks worn down, tired; there are bags under his eyes that Lance knows weren’t there a day or two ago. There’s a thin cut running along his left cheek. Lance frowns; either Keith has been overworking himself on the training deck again, or something has been going on out there. Not that it’s any of his business anymore, but …

“Did something happen today?” Keith asks eventually, studying Lance just as seriously as he had been. “Just two days ago you were insisting Blue wasn’t an option for anything.” 

Lance looks away, off to the side. “I told them.”

“About your leg?”

“Yeah. And just … you know. Everything, in general.”

He hears Keith’s sharp intake of breath. “How’d they take it?”

Obviously not well, since Lance is here, but he doesn’t say that, and Lance appreciates it. He bites his lip and admits, “I didn’t really stick around long enough to get all of it. But not good.” 

“So you’re …”

“I’m not leaving.” He knows Keith is going to ask. He knows, because he can hear the tinge of hope in his voice, and Lance feels bad, but he can’t. He can’t leave again. He can’t do that to them. His family already hurt so badly once. He can’t make them worry again. “I just decided to stop pretending Blue doesn’t exist. It wasn’t fair to her.” He looks back at Keith, desperate to change the subject. He’s already thought so much about it today, and he wants to put it behind him until he has to go back tomorrow. He’s already pushing it, staying away for the night. “Is everything okay there? You look … um. Really tired.”

Keith’s lips twitch, like he wants to keep talking about Lance’s issues, but somehow he doesn’t. “Just can’t sleep,” he says, reaching a hand up to scratch at the cut on his cheek. He seems honest enough about it, so Lance won’t press him for a different answer. “You know that feeling you always used to get, where you said things were going too well so there had to be a catch coming?”

“Ah,” Lance answers, making a show of nodding sagely and tapping a finger to his chin. “I know that feeling well. What’s it called? Oh, right. _Soul-crushing anxiety_. Do tell.”

Keith snorts. “That’s pretty much it. Things have been going too smoothly. Like, I get that it’s probably just me projecting. Zarkon’s dead, and Lotor’s dead, and Haggar is who the fuck knows where. Probably dead. But this all feels too casual. We’ve been taking out small pockets of resisting Galra and all, but we haven’t had any slip ups. And we’re …”

“Fuck ups,” Lance finishes with a grin. They’re lucky they’ve survived this long. Dumb luck and a bit of a flair for the overdramatic was what got them through the war. They’re incredibly more experienced now, but they still had their moments where the team didn’t run like a well-oiled machine. Every one of them was so different that sometimes they just naturally clashed. 

“I’m not the one who said it.”

“Maybe you just feel that way because Pidge and Hunk are back?” Lance knows that’s not the reason. He knows that anxiety doesn’t give a fuck about facts. But he doesn’t know how else to try to calm Keith down. He looks like shit; he needs to sleep. If he were there, he would have manhandled him into a bed. But he’s not there. He won’t be there. “The dynamic has changed. It’s got to be a bit weird.” 

Keith frowns, eyes darting down beyond what Lance can see. “I keep expecting to turn the corner and see you there. Them being back without you is weird.” 

Lance looks down too. “I’m sorry,” he offers, but he knows it’s not what Keith wants to hear. 

“See anyone you’re interested in?” Keith suddenly asks, changing the subject again. They seem to be doing a lot of that tonight. “I realized you haven’t been bragging about all the cute girls like you usually do. It’s a nice change.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, but it’s in good humor. “But nah. Don’t think many of the locals are interested in a drop out with one leg, you know?” He doesn’t add that he hasn’t even thought about looking to settle down or date. He doesn’t add that lately, he thinks about Keith, about if Keith were … on Earth.

He’s not, so nothing will happen. But neither of them can deny they’re interested. 

There’s no other explanation for why they went from perpetually hating one another to talking about literally anything every night they get the chance. 

But then Keith goes and drops a fucking ball, and Lance thought he had his life kind of together, but apparently he does _not_. 

“They don’t know what they’re missing out on,” the red paladin states, calmly like he’s talking about the weather. 

Lance squeaks--an altogether embarrassing and not very manly sound--and his mouth gapes wide open as he stares. He’s sure his face has bloomed scarlet, and only Blue’s icy lights are hiding the evidence. When he finally manages to put his head back together (some of the pieces aren’t all there, still, where’d they go?) he strangles out a “That’s oddly chivalrous of you, Keith.” 

He doesn’t mean it like that. Right? Or maybe he does, what with how he’s been acting, but Keith knows they can’t … 

There’s nothing to be gained between them. Lance knows this. He knows it, and he still talks to Keith every night like it’s his last holding thread between here and insanity. He wants what he can’t have. He always wants that, then he gets it, and then it gets ruined. Fighter pilot, Earth, family. Keith. The cycle doesn’t stop. 

Keith must see something in his expression, because his vivid eyes soften and dart up and away. If Lance isn’t mistaken, he thinks he can see some rosy cheeks on his end too. “I’m just saying.” He takes a deep breath. “Lance, if …”

“Don’t.” 

He stops, thankfully, but just looks at Lance with something close to frustration. It’s the first time either of them have vocally acknowledged what grew between them over the last few months. Lance should be ecstatic. But he’s not. 

He’s not because he’s just going to hurt Keith, in the end, because he’s not going back, and Keith’s not coming home. They’re not fated to be with each other, because they’re part of two different lives. 

His fingers tighten against the thick blanket, and Blue rumbles her concern. She’s never judged him, not really. Only comforted and protected when she needs. She can tell he’s upset. That’s enough for her. 

“If you ever decided to come back, then would you consider it? Us?” Keith asks instead, and Lance knows he’s going to have to answer. He tries to avoid it anyway.

“I’m not coming back, Keith.”

“But if you were.” 

“Then what? You’d wait for me? You’d be waiting forever. I would never do something like that to you, and I wouldn’t want to. Don’t wait for nothing.”

Keith still wants an answer. “I’ve only ever wanted one person, Lance,” is the reply he gives, which just makes everything hurt worse. Lance squeezes his eyes shut, but Keith continues. “If it means I have to wait forever, I will, because I don’t want anything else. I don’t need you next to me. It’s okay if you do, I understand that. But I don’t. I’ll take you any way I can have you.” 

Lance feels like he might cry all over again, but there’s not much water left to spill over. His breath shakes and doesn’t quite fill his lungs the way he wants it to. He has to take a minute to calm down before he finally gets anything out of his mouth. “Just … Just let this be enough.” He doesn’t do empty promises, and he doesn’t do relationships where he’ll never be satisfied. It wouldn’t be fair, even if Keith says he doesn’t mind. “Okay?”

He waits for Keith to end the call. He’s got to be feeling frustrated, disappointed. Lance is a failure when it comes down to it. He’s always talked a big game about relationships and love but the truth is he’s never been very good at understanding his own feelings. He’s a mess. Keith is poised, calm, perfect. He can’t deal with this forever. Eventually, he’ll get annoyed again, just like he used to. 

Sheepishly he looks up. Keith is looking at him with a small frown, but he doesn’t seem very upset. In fact, he looks … amused? No, Lance has to be reading that wrong. He knows Keith wouldn’t make fun of him for being weak, and there’s nothing else funny about this. 

“Okay,” Keith replies, sincerely. “I’ll leave it alone.” There’s an unspoken “for now” that fills the air, but Lance doesn’t push it. He’s exhausted himself emotionally, physically. He’s too tired to fight any more. “Isn’t it late there? You should be heading back.”

Lance shakes his head and pointedly reaches beneath his blanket to take off the prosthetic. It thunks onto the floor somewhere under the pilot’s seat. “I’m just going to stay here tonight. Don’t really want to face everyone right now. Tomorrow.”

Whatever Keith is going to reply is cut off by a second voice, coming from somewhere out of Lance’s field of vision. There’s the sound of an automatic door puffing with air, like someone has just entered the room. “Is that Lance?” they ask, and then, immediately, “You didn’t break my tech, did you? I swear to all Altea, Lance, I made that thing almost indestructible. If you did something--”

“Hey, Pidge,” he laughs softly, relieved. He doesn’t want to deal with any of the awkward tension that is sure to emanate from Keith in a moment or two. “We’re just talking. Nothing’s broken.”

Pidge sticks her face up to the holo screen, one small hand shoving at Keith’s head to force him out of the way. “You’ve been taking care of it, right? Taking it off?”

“It’s off right now. I’d show you to prove it but I don’t really have much on under the blanket.” 

Keith’s face flushes bright red, and Pidge squawks indignantly before hurriedly turning her face away. “Too much info, you fucking pervert.”

“I was swimming!” 

“No one said you had to swim naked!”

“Oh hey, is that Lance?” Hunk appears, squeezing in next to Keith and Pidge. His warm eyes light up immediately when he sees that it is, indeed, Lance on the screen. 

Lance feels … at peace, with all of them. Like they actually miss him. He knows they do, but his first few years in space he beat himself up over feeling like the leftover Paladin, sometimes. He knows now that wasn’t the case, that they valued him and his opinion and his fighting even then, but to see it here always makes him feel wanted. He stays up later than usual, talking to them all, and when he does finally fall asleep, shrouded in Blue’s comforting purrs, he feels lighter than he has in months. 

He tries not to think too deeply about it. He can feel this way with his own family again, he knows it. He just needs … time. More time. 

***

He doesn’t know if he can face them. 

Lance hovers on the front porch, dressed in the spare black bodysuit from his Paladin armor. Someone had gathered his clothes from the beach overnight, but that’s fine. He doesn’t need them, if they were stolen. He left his jacket in Blue. The jacket is a piece of the life he’s left behind, and he leaves it inside the lion as a reminder of everything he’s gone through. He leaves it behind because he can leave the rest of it behind, too, if he tries hard enough.

Maybe eventually he can leave Keith behind too, so the Red Paladin can finally move on without him. 

Part of him wants to delay the inevitable as long as he can. He wants to wander around town, distract himself. But he’s hungry, and he can’t go out in nothing but the inside of his armor. The sheen of metal from his bare right foot is more than enough reason for people to stare. 

Deep breaths, Lance. It’s just _Mami_. Just his family. He’s always bragged about how accepting his family is, so if they can’t accept him as he is now, then he’s been lying to himself this entire time. 

He takes one more steadying breath and pushes the front door open. Predictably, the hinges squeak, so he can’t sneak in even if he wants to. 

Lance takes one step inside before a body is hurtling towards him, arms wrapped tight around his midriff like he’ll disappear if they don’t hang tight. He understands. He’s felt the same about the other Paladins in life or death situations. 

He remembers Pidge in particular, her shaking hands squeezing the feeling out of Lance’s waist as she half-drags him off of Lotor’s ship, whispers of “Just hang on, Lance, okay, don’t … don’t leave me” filling the air. 

Lance timidly lowers his hands to place them on his mother’s shoulders, letting her cling. He looks beyond her to see Luis, Marco, and Rachel hovering near the entryway. Marco in particular seems upset. 

“We thought you left again,” he says, voice quivering. 

“Oh,” he whispers in reply. He would never. He’s scared, of what they think, but they’re still his family. They’re still his home. “I have nowhere else to go,” he answers, even though that isn’t true. There’s one other place, but he’s told himself he won’t. He’s told himself that seven years is more than enough war and chaos. He just wants things to be easy again. 

“Then where did you go?” Luis isn’t accusing him of anything, but Lance understands. He ran yesterday. From them. To a place none of them can get to. 

He tells the truth, because he knows they know about Voltron, and they know he didn’t come back to Earth without a ship. “My lion. Just … a safe space. I’m sorry I left.”

“We shouldn’t have made you feel like you needed to,” his mother says into his chest, then takes a step back. Her eyes are watery but she doesn’t look at him like he’s going to break in half if he breathes too hard. At least he got one thing right. “You haven’t been comfortable here like you want to be. That is our fault. We remember you as someone you are not any longer. You’re still Lance, you’re just …” 

“Grown up,” Marco finishes. “It’s weird.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Lance says, trying to kill the tense atmosphere in the room, “Keith still says I need to grow up all the time. He’s convinced I don’t have a mature bone in my body.” He looks down, takes another breath, and adds, “Maybe the one mature bone was in the right leg, who knows?”

He’s always coped with humor. It was why he and Coran got along so well, even when it seemed so unlikely. Coran had suffered the tragic loss of an entire civilization, and he’d been very close to Alfor. But he coped like Lance, and it always made it easy to talk. Crude humor about near-death experiences tended to take away from the real severity of the situation. Lance can deal with the loss of a limb if he just makes the whole thing into one big joke. 

Mami looks like she’s about to cry. Rachel looks mildly horrified. 

Marco barks out a laugh. He gets it. Lance flashes a grin in his brother’s direction.

“I want to know everything,” his mom says, then, her expression twisting into familiar determination. She’s good at fixing things. She’ll fix this, like she does everything else. Lance feels a surge of warmth bloom in his chest. He loves her, so much. He doesn’t know how he got through so many years without her. “Not just the fun parts, the adventure. I want to know all of it, mijo. I want to know your friends, I want to know how …” Her eyes flicker down to his leg. “How that happened. Help me understand.” 

Lance nods in agreement. He looks over at Luis. “Nadia and Sylvio?” 

“In school. I can send them home instead of here if this is going to be awhile.” 

“Yeah. I know they’re not little anymore but they still shouldn’t hear about all of this.” 

“I’ll make some lunch,” his mother offers, “You haven’t eaten since dinner two nights ago. You must be starving.” 

There’s survival food in Blue along with his blankets, but Lance has sworn off food goo for the rest of his life. He starved instead. He nods again, this time offering them all another timid smile. This is right. This is what he needs to do to connect with them again. “I’ll go put some actual clothes on and shower,” he says, already heading for the stairs. Marco looks down again.

“That thing waterproof?”

“Pidge and Hunk helped work on it. They know I’d rather not have one at all if I can’t get in the water. Course it’s waterproof.” He curls the metal toes. They don’t really move any differently than his real ones. “Kind of indestructible, really.” 

Marco grins. Lance has a feeling he’s not particularly turned off by it. “Dude. That’s sweet.” 

Lance changes, eats lunch, and tells them what they want to know. He answers nearly every question, with the sake of a few things he’s not willing to talk to anyone about, not really. By the time they’re done, his voice is hoarse, and the sun has long since set. When he gets up to go to bed, his mother offers a hand to help, but he knows it’s not because he’s fragile. It’s because no matter what, she wants to support him. 

For the first time in four months, he feels like he’s actually come home. 

***

Things get easier. Lance stops hiding in his room every night, he stops hiding his scars and his past. He gets a job interview, and though it felt like too much like betrayal to reciprocate, a shy girl on the beach approaches him to ask him out to coffee. Luis’ kids come by after school and are enthralled with watching him exercise and practice. He goes to see Blue more often. His bayard responds to him again, so he shows off with his rifle. Marco’s jaw might not ever be okay again after seeing him shoot. 

He doesn’t call Keith.

Keith calls him, but he doesn’t pick up.

He can move on. 

He hopes Keith can too. 

The guilt is kind of eating him up inside, though. He doesn’t want to stop talking to Keith. He does it because he knows it will make it harder to pull away when they do. But he misses him. 

Some evenings, he goes outside to sit on the rickety old deck _Papi_ built before he passed away. He missed a lot of things while he was in space, but more than food, more than the people and the internet and dumb shit like memes, Lance missed nature. He missed the rain, and the heat, and the way the sun set in Cuba. He likes to sit outside and take it in, even if Rachel remarks that he’s taken on the personality of an old man. The sounds, the smells, the views, are like nothing Lance has ever experienced on other planets during his travels. Space is cool, but it has nothing on this. 

He’s sitting on the deck, dressed in shorts and an old tank top that barely fits to battle the heat. He’s half dozing at this point; he spent the day running errands and swimming to visit Blue. Sometimes, the fact that he has nothing to do day to day bugs him. Today, he’s enjoyed it. 

He hears someone come up behind him but doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Years in the field (and one terrifying incident where he and half of the others had been temporarily blinded) led him to recognizing the way certain footsteps sound. He recognizes his mother’s light steps immediately. It isn’t until she’s right next to him that he opens his eyes and looks up, offering her a small smile. 

Her hand hovers for just the slightest moment before she brings it down to pat his prosthetic knee, taking a seat next to him. 

“Lance, _mijo_ , what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Just sitting,” he answers in confusion. He does this at least twice a week; he doesn’t know why she’s just now asking.

He gets his answer a few seconds later when she shakes her head, expression soft. “What are you doing on Earth?” she clarifies. He draws in a sharp breath. 

He doesn’t understand why she’s asking. Has he done something to make her think he doesn’t deserve to stay? Does she want him to leave? He pulls his thoughts together long enough to look at her in near-terror. “Because this is home,” he tells her. “Am I … do you want me to move out? I thought …”

“Oh, no, no Lance, of course not,” she gushes, realizing that she’s alarmed him. She leans closer now, hand gripping at his right arm like she’s afraid he’ll bolt. “You aren’t happy.”

“I have all of you. Of course I’m happy.” 

“You’re peaceful with what you have, but that does not make you happy. You’ve always dreamed of space, _mijo_.”

He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut again. “And then I got there, and it was terrifying.” 

“All of it? You light up when you talk about your adventures. Not all of them, mind.” He can feel her hand brushing against his knee again, like she’s making a statement. “But the way you look when you talk about your team and the planets you visited is so much more than anything you give to us. You don’t belong here anymore.” 

Lance jolts upright, pulling her hands off of him. “Just because I didn’t come back looking like I did when I left--”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” 

“Then _what_.”

“Lance.” _Mami_ shifts in her seat, turning so that she is facing him entirely. He can’t avoid her unless he walks off, and he’ll never do that to her. “What is home to you?”

“This house,” he answers immediately, without hesitation. No matter where he’s gone, he always wanted to come back here. 

But his mother shakes her head. “This is not your home. This is where you were raised, where you grew. This is where you discovered what you wanted to be. This is a safe place for you, but it is not your home. You were never meant to stay here. Do you understand what I mean?” She smiles, gently, and Lance knows she’s trying to impart some sort of wisdom on him that only moms are capable of. He hates it, really. She can see right through him, and he’s been so, so careful. “When you were in space, what did you miss?”

He bites his lip, because he knows that answer like the back of his hand. Some days he couldn’t get out of bed without help, the ache in his heart over leaving everything behind so great. “Everything,” he states, meeting her warm eyes. He’s not lying in the slightest. 

“And now that you’re here? Back? What do you miss?”

“I don’t--” he starts, but he’s never really considered it. Missing space. Because he doesn’t. Right? Why would he miss …

But he misses the team. He misses feeling like he was a part of something great, like he was doing something good for the universe. He never liked having so much responsibility on his shoulders, but he handled it as well as could be expected. He saved Earth. He lost a leg but saved countless lives, not just here but everywhere. He thought that since the war was over, he could go home. Rest on his laurels. 

He still doesn’t miss the fighting, even if he’s damn good at it now. But he misses … he misses …

He doesn’t answer, and looks down at his hands instead. Clasped in his lap, like he’s hiding something when he’s not. 

“I thought you were dead for seven years.” She tentatively reaches up, strokes her fingers through his curls. He melts at her touch, like he always has before, leaning forward to bury his face into her shoulder. She smells like the kitchen. Warm. “But the whole time you were fighting for us. Fighting to protect us. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I came back for you,” he murmurs against her shirt, letting her continue running a hand through his hair. “I’m staying for you. I can’t put you through that again.”

She shakes her head firmly. “I know now that you’re alive. I know you have a family there who would rather die themselves than let you die. I know you would do the same for them. You trust them, _mijo_. You love them like you love us. They’re missing a piece of themselves.”

“You--”

“I knew when I had each of you that you would leave me one day. It’s part of raising a child. Letting them go when they need to become their own person. And you did, out there. I love having you home, knowing you are safe.” Lance feels her tighten her fingers, just slightly. “But I can’t help but feel like keeping you here is holding you back from your true potential. You’re just a shell of yourself.” 

“I’m learning,” isn’t what he means to say, but it comes out anyway. He is learning how to adjust again, it’s just taking longer than he thought. 

She sighs into his hair. “You’re learning, but are you happy?” 

Again with the happy. Lance understands. His family has always thrived on happiness. He grew up correlating family with joy and love, and he still believes that is true. But when he is with his family now, there is something not quite …

He never does answer his mother, but she’s put the thought in his head, and he hates her for it. When he thinks of happiness, he doesn’t think of Earth, and he doesn’t think of space. He thinks of his team, and his family, and especially of …

Of Keith. 

Lance takes a long, hard look at his communicator that night before he goes to bed. He still doesn’t call. 

Eventually, he thinks as he drifts off, happiness will equate to something different for him. Things change, and he can too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thanks so much for reading this fic! I have some others planned/working on so be on the lookout for those. If you'd like to see a prequel or a continuation of this particular work, let me know! I'd love to write more in this particular fic-verse.

Lance slips back into his bullshit within a couple days despite his conviction that he can change. He doesn’t leave bed, he doesn’t go to meals, he can’t … look at his family without somehow feeling guilty for no reason. 

He can’t stop thinking about what his mother said. He thought he was okay this entire time. He thought once the war ended he could go back to being happy … but wasn’t he, in a sense, already kind of happy? 

Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Keith.

Allura. Coran.

Happiness is …

Happiness can be found …

No, fuck. That’s a Harry Potter quote.

Whatever. Happiness means so many different things, so what does it matter if the team made him happy? Being home makes him happy. Not being at war makes him happy. 

But Lance can’t help the painful thud of his heart every time he thinks about Keith, and about the rest of his team. He used to think he was a seventh wheel. He used to think he wasn’t really important to the team, that he was just there to fill the role of the leftover Paladin. That Blue had only picked him because he was the best option at the time. The only option. Next to Keith’s raw power, Shiro’s leadership, Pidge’s cunning smarts, and Hunk’s mechanical knowledge, he just sort of … existed. 

But he was a damn good shot, and a good support for his team. Lance eventually came to realize that he could protect everyone best, because he was the last line of defense. He became their eyes from the ground. They began to acknowledge his skill, his ability to stay calm under pressure. He was a good strategist, too; no one took his suggestions seriously, at first, when the team was still disjointed and experimenting. He usually said them jokingly, like he knew they wouldn’t work anyway, but then … then on a whim Keith had decided to try one of his ideas. 

They got injured a lot less after that. Lance began sitting in on meetings alongside Shiro and Keith, got to actually feel like he was contributing. Began to feel like he was meant to be there. Things just … fell into place after that. 

Lance misses that now. He misses that feeling of belonging with a group of people so completely that he doesn’t even have the chance to doubt himself. 

Someone knocks on his door, but it’s locked, and Lance doesn’t have the energy or care to get up and answer it. Whoever it is doesn’t talk, just knocks again, then leaves him alone. He sighs and blinks up at the stars on his ceiling. He doesn’t know what to do. 

He wants …

He wants …

Lance rolls onto his side and yanks his covers over his head.

What the fuck ever.

Somehow he falls asleep, because the next time he stirs his room is pitch black. He shifts in confusion, dragging his face out to look around. Something woke him up, but he can’t …

The communicator. He can hear the familiar sounds of an incoming call, but it’s muffled, barely sounding from where it’s been shoved into his nightstand drawer. The castle has to be synced with Earth-time like it was before, so no one bothers to call this late …

He sits up and pulls it out, finger hovering over the button to answer it. If it’s Keith, he doesn’t think he … 

He lets it keep beeping, but he can’t bring himself to put it away. 

A moment later it stops, but then Keith’s voice sounds. Lance sits up immediately, worried he accidentally answered, but a red light flickers instead. It’s recording. Keith is leaving a message. 

Lance is pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear what the Red Paladin is going to say. This is going to be it. The last knot untying, his string coming loose from space. From Keith. This is closure. 

This is how he’s going to move on. 

“Lance,” Keith says, and he sounds wrecked. Like he hasn’t slept since the last time they talked, and he knows it’s his fault, for not answering him. He’d hoped, a bit foolishly, that Keith would just give up. But Lance hasn’t moved on, so it only makes sense that Keith hasn’t either. He was more invested, after all. 

“I’m … I’m sorry I brought it up. Us. I guess I just hoped I could change your mind. I guess it kind of had the opposite reaction to what I wanted. Look, I just … I know you’re probably asleep, so I guess I’ll just say what I want because it’s not like you’ll stop me anyway. And you can always just delete this if you don’t want to hear it. You’ll probably do that anyway, so whatever. Here goes nothing.” 

He doesn’t want to hear this but he can’t delete it while it’s recording. Lance kicks the communicator off the bed, rolls over, and buries his face into his pillow.

Somehow, he can still hear Keith through it. Part of him probably wants to. 

“I don’t want to do this without you. Pidge and Hunk came back and I thought things would get better. Before them we were just kind of … floundering. We had two lions, and yeah, Zarkon and Lotor are gone, but that connection all of us shared was gone. There were pieces missing. Not just fighting, but. You know. You and Hunk were our support, both literally and figuratively, even if I hated your guts the whole first year we were out here. I guess I should also give up a lie and say I never thought you weren’t a good pilot. I’m sorry you were always compared to me. Like yeah, you weren’t like me. But that’s not bad. No one is meant to be exactly like someone else. It took me like three years and a lot of Shiro’s disappointed dad lectures for me to realize, but we both know I’m a stubborn bastard. I don’t let things go easy.” 

That fucker. He’s laying on the guilt trip so thick Lance can almost taste it. Quiznak, he hates him. So much.

“I thought it’d be easier with Pidge and Hunk back, like less pieces were missing. But now there’s just one gaping hole and we can’t fill it back up, and everything’s still wrong. I promised myself I wouldn’t try to talk you into coming back to us, so this isn’t that. I just feel like a piece of myself is missing. Non-romantically, romantically, whatever. You were a part of us and we became something that no one else in the entire universe could hope to be. I don’t know what a family is like. I grew up without one. But this feels kind of like the way I imagine having a family would feel.” Keith takes a deep breath. “I can’t do this without you. The mission has always been the most important thing to me, until it wasn’t. There’s no mission anymore, except to just … protect when we’re needed. I kind of like that but it’s not … it’s a lifestyle and it’s one I don’t want to keep doing without the passion behind it.”

Lance frowns, looks down at the device like he can see Keith through it. He doesn’t understand what he’s implying. Is he going to quit? Is he going to just … stop? He can’t do that. They need Keith. 

“I’ll go to you, okay? You aren’t going to listen to this fucking message anyway, so I guess I’ll just show up and surprise you. I can’t do this without you.” His voice cracks, and Lance knows it’s not because he’s tired. “I’m not going to do this without you. I don’t have to make you give everything up to come back to us. But I can push myself into your life. And you’ll just have to make do, okay, because I’m not going to sit here and wait for you. I’m stubborn, you know that, and I’m a man of action. So fuck you, okay? Let me … Let me do this for you.”

Lance is sitting upright now, staring at the communicator in growing horror. He can’t. He _can’t_ do that for him. Keith can’t give up his entire life just to be with … 

Isn’t that …

Isn’t that kind of what he’s been doing, this entire time?

Keith speaks, one more time, so soft Lance barely hears it. 

“I love you, you stupid damn cargo pilot.” 

“Fuck,” Lance whispers, fingers twisting into his sheets. He doesn’t … He can’t let him. He can’t let Keith do this. Keith is willing to give up the lifestyle he loves and found a home in to be with Lance, and he can’t let that happen. He has to do something. If.

If Keith can give up everything for him, then why can’t Lance give a little and take the best of both worlds? 

“Fuck!” he yells, throwing the nearest thing his fingers find purchase on against the opposite wall. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair, he’s such an asshole, who gave Keith the _right--_

“Lance?” someone groans tiredly from beyond his door, knocking just once. “You alright?”

Face flushing with embarrassment, he flings himself back into his bed. It’s too late to do anything about this tonight, but tomorrow. Tomorrow he is going to … “ _Lo siento, mami_ , I’m okay,” he calls, and hopes it sounds convincing enough. 

He can hear shuffling from beyond the door, and when she doesn’t leave, he can’t stand it any longer. He flings himself off of his bed and opens his door, throwing his arms around his mother. She’s confused, he’s sure, and more than half-asleep, but she hugs him back nonetheless. He’d like to say he doesn’t know what he’ll do without her, but … but he’s done it already, and came back for her. He’ll do it again. 

She knows, without him speaking a word, what’s been going through his mind. “I will miss you,” she whispers into his ear, stroking at his hair. “But you and I both know that is where you belong.” 

“I don’t want to leave you,” he cries, because if Lance could have the best of both worlds, he would pack his entire damn family up and drag them onto the castle with him. But they wouldn’t be happy. They still have lives here, and none of them ever intended on going to space in the first place. And there are still dangers, constantly, out in the universe. He would never willingly bring anyone into that. 

“You are worth more than Earth can give you,” is all she answers, and Lance knows that she is smiling through her tears. 

They’ve been right, this entire time, and he was just too stubborn to see it. He was never going to fit back in. He was always going to be different. Not just to others … to himself, too. Lance knows, he’s always known and believed, that he is capable of _more_. 

He’s been stalling, more than likely, without ever realizing it. He’s been stalling ever since he fell in love with space, with the Castle, with his family in the stars. Clinging to his past instead of making the leap towards his real future. Pidge and Hunk figured it out faster than he did. Keith has always known he is more than Earth can handle. Shiro lost everything, then gained everything anew. And Allura and Coran … they lost their home, their families, their planet, and then found solace in all of them. 

One big quiznakking space family, and Lance has been pushing them all away in favor of the one he’s always had, and always will have. There’s no reason why he can’t have two. 

“This whole time, you thought I was dead,” he tries, one last time, because he knows that once he makes the final decision there’s no going back. 

“No, _mi amor_. I knew you were alright. In my heart, I knew you were still out there somewhere. We knew the Garrison lied about Shiro. We believed they lied about you too.” She draws back, and smiles at him, and Lance is so gone. Her trust and compassion for her family is more powerful than Lance can handle, really. And he … 

He yearns to feel that way about his own family, one day. He has, already. He is his mother’s son, and he’s proven that by saving the lives of his team, over and over again. He can have with them what his mother has here. He understands. 

He drags in deep breaths, steadies his heart before it can pound out of his ribcage. He can do this. He needs to do this. “I can visit, right?” 

“The door is always open when you need it, Lance. To you or anyone else close to you.” She smiles. “You’ll have to invite them all here the next time you stop by.” 

He grins, brushing away tears. He’ll cry again tomorrow, for sure, but he’s done for now. “Of course. I bragged about your cooking so much it’ll put me to shame if they don’t try it.” 

His mother smiles back, ruffling his hair. “Get some rest, _mijo_. Tomorrow is a big day. Be sure to call your sister before you go.” 

Lance hugs her for another five minutes anyway. He knows he won’t get to experience it too many times after this, so he’s going to take what he can get while he can. He can visit. He knows this. The Castle is not a prison anymore, not like it used to be to keep them safe. But the reality is, most days it might be impossible to hop over for a visit. If it was easy, the others would have visited by now. 

He doesn’t sleep much. His communicator is still flashing with the recorded message; as far as Keith knows, Lance hasn’t heard it. He wants to keep it that way. He wants to let it stew, let it become vitriol he can spew once he sees the bastard again. Keith’s made him like this. Keith is the one who is making him leave. A tiny part of him blames him for it. 

Most of him knows it’s not Keith’s fault. 

As soon as he hears the rest of his family moving around downstairs, he gets up, grabs the largest suitcase he owns, and begins to pack. This time, the least he can do is come prepared. He packs his favorite clothes, all of his best skincare products (would anyone mind if he parked a giant ass robot lion next to the nearest mall to stock up?) and all the photos he can find. He’s taking his family with him, in the ways he still can. 

Then he firmly deletes the message Keith sent him without playing it and inputs the code for Allura’s personal communicator. 

It takes her a moment to answer it, and when she does, her face peers at him through squinting eyes and a bird’s nest of hair. He’s woken her, but Lance is impatient enough that he doesn’t feel particularly bad about that. Actually, recalling all the late night false alarms she pulled on them, he sort of relishes the thought of her being on the receiving end for once. 

“Lance?” she asks, voice raspy but worried. “Is something wrong? You never call. Is Earth--”

“Earth is fine,” he interrupts. “Just … I need a favor.” 

“A favor?” 

Lance thinks asking Allura for a favor is like flirting with death, but she probably won’t hate him for this one. “In um … three, four hours, could you open a wormhole for me?”

He sees it the moment a spark of hope lights in her eyes. The moment she realizes what he’s asking. Of all people, he never thought she might miss him like the others do, but they’d become fast friends, comrades, over the years. He misses their spa dates after particularly rough missions. A smile peeks at the corner of his mouth. “Why do you need a wormhole?” she asks softly, like she’s getting her hopes up for nothing.

He meets her eyes through the holo screen and answers her in a tone just as soft, “I’m coming home.” 

Her hopeful expression blooms into a delighted smile, all signs of sleep gone from her face now. “Lance,” she breathes, laughing a little, “ _Lance_ , you’re coming … for good? You’re coming back?” 

“Yeah,” he laughs in reply, grinning too. “Just … Keith hasn’t done anything stupid yet, right? Don’t let him leave, but don’t tell them. Okay? I want to surprise them.” He wants to surprise Keith so he can have a proper yell, really, but a surprise is fun too. 

“Keith hasn’t gone anywhere,” she assures him. “And I won’t tell anyone. What changed your mind? The last we heard, you …”

Lance shakes his head to stop her. “Later. I’ll tell you later. Right now I just really want to go before I second guess things again. I’ll need coordinates for the wormhole so I can be ready.” He pauses, then adds, “Do I need to take anything with me before I leave that you can think of? Anything anyone needs?” He’ll be a bro and swing by a restaurant; they probably haven’t had Earth food in a long time. It’s only fair. 

“Just bring yourself,” Allura laughs, clapping her hands together. She looks altogether too pleased about the situation. Lance has a feeling someone placed a bet, but he’s not going to call them out. They all place bets about everything. “I’ll send the coordinates to the Blue Lion for you.” 

Just the thought brings a fond smile to his face. He just … God, he misses them so much. He feels more excited to be going back to them than he has about anything since winning the war. “Thanks, Allura. Really. I’ll see you soon.” 

Lance ends the call and gives the room a quick glance over. It doesn’t feel like his anymore; it hasn’t the whole time he’s been home. The stars stuck to his ceiling are nothing compared to the real thing, and he’s seen them. He’s seen thousands of constellations, and there are forever more to see. It’s his destiny. Space is his destiny. Maybe he’s known that from the very beginning, but being thrust into space against his own will changed his opinion on the beauty of the universe, at least for awhile. 

Zarkon is gone. Lotor is gone. There are planets and stars and black holes out there waiting for adventures, ones with much less near-dying involved. 

He turns around and leaves his room without a second glance. There’s nothing left for him in there. 

The house quiets the moment Lance’s feet leave the bottom step. They all turn to him, taking in his suitcase and the purposeful way he’s dressed. Mami already knows, of course, but the others would not have believed her without an appearance like this. It’s probably why the house is full and vibrant this morning.

Luis is standing in the hall, his wife leaning against his arm. Nadia and Sylvio are nearby. Rachel and Marco and his cousins and his abuelos are all gathered. Mami has tears in her eyes, but she’s smiling, just like last night. A couple of the others look like they’re about to start bawling too.

Lance blinks hastily to shove his own tears back, but it’s a losing battle. He knows what this is.

It’s a send off. 

“You know I’m not leaving for good, right?” he laughs, but the words come out choked. “Because wow, that’d be a dick move, and I already did that once--”

“You gotta bring us stuff next time you visit!” Nadia begs, throwing herself at him. She’s grown so much since he was a cadet, but she clings to him all the same. “You can bring things from planets, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Anything you want.” He lifts the communicator in his hand and holds it out towards his mother. “Take this. I’ll get Allura to give me a new one, so I can call you. We can stay in contact this time.” If he’s going to go, Lance needs to be able to tell them he’s okay. He needs to be able to talk to his family when he needs them. He won’t … feel homesick, not like he used to. He knows that now. If he has them, he’s okay. 

He works his way through them all, hugs and cries and demands of souvenirs. Promises of safety and love. By the time he makes it through his entire family, he’s a mess, but he’s ready to go. He’s more sure than before, because amidst all their tears, he knows they are happy he is happy again. He can see it in them all. He hoists the large bag of spices and food Mami has bequeathed him and beams a smile at them all from the front door. “If you watch from the beach,” he says, “You can see me leave.” 

“Don’t you have to swim to the island first?” Sylvio asks, frowning a little. Mami’s face falls immediately, probably worried about the food. 

“Nah,” Lance brushes off casually. “Blue will always come for me.”

 _Ready to go, gorgeous?_ he thinks, and he can feel the answering rumble deep in his chest. Distantly, a lion roars, the sound echoing across the sea. The whole family collectively gasps. Lance has never felt more like a badass, especially when his best girl lands thunderously in the sand near the house, spraying grains everywhere. 

“So cool,” Marco whispers, mouth gaping open. Lance directs his grin towards his brother. 

“Lance,” his mother calls.

He straightens his shoulders before looking at her. This is the last time he’ll see her in who knows how long. He’s got to take in the way she is now, in case he can’t later. 

She steps forward and presses her hand to his cheek. He leans into the touch, but his eyes don’t leave hers. “Do great things,” she says, softly and only for him. “Make us proud.” 

He nods, because words would fail him now. All he can do is live up to her expectations as best as he can. No more wallowing. He’s got things to do and a family to impress.

And a boy to bring back and show off. 

Time flies, after he leaves Varadero. Lance makes a couple stops (and none of them are just to show off, because of course not, that’s not who he is at all). He promised he would say goodbye to Veronica, and he does, just in person. The convenience of flying his lion means he can travel halfway across the world in the space of a minute or two, and he takes advantage of it. He commandeers a landing pad. Without permission, because fuck that. Veronica comes out screeching at him, tears streaming down her face. She’s a genius; it doesn’t take one to figure out what he’s planning to do. 

After a second tearful farewell, Lance decides he’s not going to leave Earth without a bang. He’s always wanted to leave a lasting impression on them. Originally, he wanted to be a pilot as good as Shiro. Now, he wants the world to know just how quiznakking stupid the Garrison is, and exactly how he feels about them lying to their families. He doesn’t need to persuade Blue at all before she’s firing off a massive chunk of ice at each of the exits. It’ll take them weeks to get out. 

He makes sure to record it for Pidge. He’s pretty sure he can see Iverson down there, shaking a fist and screeching his last name like a curse. Lance grins, flips his mic on, and hollers “Suck my fucking dick, Iverson!” 

Because he’s mature. Because he can’t wait for them to show _that_ on the news. 

He stops at a mall, because skin care is important, okay, and 10,000 year old Altean face products just don’t do the job. He’s totally casual about all the shoppers gaping at him as he climbs back into Blue, over a dozen bags bundled into his arms. 

Lance definitely indulges in some fast food, too, buying enough for the entire team. Hunk’s cooking is amazing, and he’s sure the Yellow Paladin brought his weight in Earth ingredients to the castle, but there’s something about greasy cheap fries that nothing can beat. 

Then, and only then, does he leave Earth’s atmosphere and hover just beyond the coordinates Allura sent to Blue. He’s early, by at least an hour, but he is content to sit in silence for once in his life. 

He takes in the constellations he’s become familiar with over the years. The milky way. The nearby uninhabitable planets. The pristine beauty of space, the view he’s ached to be close to ever since he was a child.

Lance never had the chance to really take it all in, before, so he does it now. He looks, and looks, and gets lost in the stars until they become him. 

His dream has always been to see the stars, to get close to them. Now he gets to live among them. 

He thought he would feel anxious to be back in space. After everything that happened, all the horrors he’d faced over the years, space should be terrifying to him. He should want to feel grounded. Instead, the weightlessness of space _is_ grounding.

For the first time in his life, Lance feels peace. 

He knows he’s made the right decision. 

He doesn’t turn back to look at Earth, because he saw it already when he came back. He knows how beautiful the sight is. He knows that if he sees it again, he’ll want to fling himself back down and never leave. 

Earth will be waiting for him, so he doesn’t need to bid it farewell.

Lance basks in the silence, and counts the stars, and when the wormhole opens in front of him he’s finally ready. Not to face Keith--he has no idea what’s going to happen until he actually sees him--but to see the others, to see the Castle, to become a functioning person again. Blue is joyous and content in his mind, and her emotions feed into his like a radio signal in the middle of nowhere. He draws in one long breath through his nose, exhales, and places his hands on the controls. 

The moment he sees the pristine white and blue of the Altean ship, Lance is at ease. Lance is at home. The castle is safe and secure and warm, like a shining beacon in the dead cold of space. He flies into Blue’s hangar without hesitation. Allura promised not to tell them he was coming back, but Lance doesn’t know if anyone has figured it out yet or not. The Princess was sleeping when he called a few hours before; they could all be resting. 

He tries not to feel pleased at the thought of screaming into Keith’s ear to wake him up. He almost wishes he’s asleep just for that reason.

Too mean? 

Probably.

Lance was never known for being kind, though.

Allura is waiting for him when he climbs out of Blue, her arms opened wide. He wastes no time in dropping his bags by his lion’s ramp so he can properly fling himself into a hug. What had started out as teenage pining and near-grotesque flirting on his part eventually grew into genuine friendship. Lance feels intensely guilty for not thinking of her much in the last few months. He clings like a koala for a good few minutes, burying his face against her shoulder. Her hugs are not like his mother’s, but they do remind him of Veronica’s. Solid, secure. Trusting. 

“What made you come back?” she asks when they pull away, fondly flicking one of his ears. She’s never admitted so, but Lance thinks she doesn’t find them as hideous as she claims. 

He shrugs. There are a lot of reasons why, but the biggest ones are sort of obvious. “I stopped pretending. And I need to cut off someone’s mullet.”

“It’s not a mullet anymore,” she laughs.

Lance scowls. “I can make it one again if I have to.” He bends down and passes her the large bag of food. “I got lunch. Dinner? Breakfast? Whatever. Earth food. Do they know I’m here yet?”

“It’s just before the middle meal, so you have good timing. I believe they’re all in the lounge. We’ve taken a free day.” Allura smiles fondly, so Lance knows the free day is because she knew he was coming. Not just for the other Paladins, he suspects; he’ll need time to get acclimated to the ship again. Allura has grown into understanding the needs of her team. “They have no idea you were planning to come.”

“Right,” Lance says, and rolls his neck. He makes a show of stretching, like he’s about to train, while Allura watches on in confusion. He flashes her a grin. “Time to go to war.”

“What exactly has he done this time?” the Princess questions, matching him step for step as he picks up his remaining bags and begins the trek from the hangar to the lounge. Lance looks around as he moves, even though he knows every inch of the Castle by heart. It’s surreal, being back. He doesn’t feel homesick at all.

He scowls. “You’ll see.” 

Lance hears them before he sees them. The door to the lounge is open and Hunk’s laugh is as infectious as ever. They’re debating about something; at Coran’s enthusiastic reply Lance figures it probably has something to do with Paladin lunches or yalmors. Figures. He stops before he reaches the door, debating whether he wants a grand entrance or not. Allura raises an eyebrow.

Then he hears Keith, and his voice sets off every emotion he’s been smothering for the past few hours. Grand entrance it is. Abruptly, he drops his bags and his suitcase. The loud thud shuts everyone up; they’re all cut off mid-sentence. Lance takes a deep breath and channels his inner fury. 

Someone--it sounds like Matt--manages a single “Uh--” before Lance is barging in, sweeping across the room until he spots his target, and stalks towards him. 

“You’re a fuckin’ liar, Keith Kogane!” he yells, ignoring the gasps and the way Keith’s eyes widen to proportions so large he looks about sixteen again. “Mr. okay, I’ll leave it alone. My fucking ass. You guilt-tripped me and I swear as soon as I get my hands on that greasy mullet--”

“Not a mullet--”

“--I’m gonna fucking wreck it. You knew I wouldn’t let you leave. Admit it. You haven’t even quiznakking packed. You’re just standing here not planning on going anywhere and I’m stressing the hell out because how _dare_ you get to be a damn martyr! You said you’d be okay, and then you decide you get to ruin your entire life because of me and that’s … _that’s_ …”

“Language,” Shiro sighs, but he is shushed by at least three other people and that’s enough for Lance to keep on trucking. 

“And who the fuck leaves a recording at like three in the morning?! You and I both know you’re acquainted with Earth time, you waited til you thought I was asleep, but oho, sucks to be you because I haven’t been sleeping thanks to your sorry ass.” He pauses long enough to take a deep breath. “And I just … I’m so quizfucking mad, okay, I can’t decide whether I want to kick your dick in with my metal foot or _kiss that goddamn smirk off of your face!”_

“Oh wow, yup, okay, this is finally happening,” Hunk says, but Lance is too involved in glaring down the grin on Keith’s face to really acknowledge any of the others yet. 

“Lance,” Keith says, and even though he’s grinning his voice sounds like he just got over being drowned. “What are you doing here?” 

“What do you _think_ I’m doing here? I’m making sure you don’t fuck off to Earth because I’m pretty sure just telling you not to won’t work.” 

Lance is pretty sure he’s being a little unfair, but he wants Keith to know just what he gave up to be here. He wants him to know just how much he means to him. 

Which is, of course, a whole hecking lot if he was willing to leave Mami. 

“Look--”

He switches his weight to his left foot, hefting the prosthetic limb in preparation for a good swing. He doesn’t ever miss. 

Keith is aware. “No, no, okay, I’m sorry, I like my balls.” His hands drop down and Lance smothers a laugh. He’s not supposed to be laughing. This is serious. “I just wanted you to answer my calls, I didn’t mean to make you … I just …” He swallows. “How long are you going to be here?” 

Alright, so maybe the semantics can be worked out at a later date. Keith’s grin has been replaced by a pleading frown, and he’s pretty sure that’s the most genuine expression he’s ever seen on the Red Paladin’s face. He must be afraid that Lance is going to leave once he gets his point across. After all, up until ten or so hours ago, Lance definitely had no intentions of returning to space. 

“Smile again,” he says.

“W-What?”

Lance glares, but Keith is even more confused, staring at him in concern. Lance isn’t entirely sure he didn’t leave a few brain screws behind on Earth, but he won’t admit that.

He groans. “I said I’d either kick your dick in or kiss the smirk off your face, so give me a damn smirk or kiss your balls goodbye!”

Keith finally figures it out, but the blush that takes over his pale face pretty much nullifies any pride Lance feels in getting the corner of his mouth to quirk up again. He figures it’s close enough to what he wants, so with that he leans forward, pressing his hands to each flaming cheek, and goes in for the kill. 

Er. Kiss.

It’s not … the best kiss. Lance hasn’t actively flirted in years and that was mostly with girls, and he’s pretty sure Keith’s never kissed anyone before. His lips are dry, and chapped (Lance is glad he bought some lip balm before he left Earth) and he gets more teeth than anything. Lance pulls back, just for a second, and firmly slots their lips together to try again. 

It’s perfect. Kind of. Neither of them are experienced enough to go for tongues in front of their entire team and Keith needs a minute to figure out how to stop being a chicken and kiss back, but once he does, their lips are moving and Lance all but melts against the other Paladin. Keith tastes like the generic Altean toothpaste they’ve all had to suffer through but Lance doesn’t mind one bit. They draw back just an inch or so, and meet eyes. He doesn’t know how he ever managed to resist this for close to four months. 

Lance knows he’ll get homesick again. Not for Earth; there’s not much left for him there. He loves the ocean, and the rain, but there are an infinite number of planets who can offer that for him too. Earth is the only planet with his family, and he’ll miss them terribly. But missing them is better than a life of missing out on everything else there is to experience. He cannot hold himself back for the sake of a life that’s no longer his. He can only embrace the one he’s been given and hold onto it for all he has. 

He almost let all of this slip away from him. 

They come back together. Lance inhales sharply, holding onto Keith like if he lets go, he’ll wake up from a dream. It’s only when he gets more bold, pressing an inquiring tongue against the press of Keith’s lips, that the rest of the team steps in. 

“So like, PDA needs to stop, so I’m calling for a group hug,” Hunk announces, and without further ado, Lance is all but attacked by Pidge throwing her arms around his waist from behind. He stumbles into Keith, but Hunk grabs them before they can fall. It’s been so long since he’s felt Hunk’s reassuring, giant teddy bear hugs. He could cry. Allura slips an arm around his shoulders, Shiro joins in to mess up his hair with a head pat, and even Coran and Matt are getting in on the fun. 

Lance laughs, and presses his face into Keith’s shoulder. 

Coming home after the war is nothing like Lance’s dreams made it out to be. 

He dreamed of Varadero, and peace, and a life he knew wasn’t his anymore. He did not expect to find sorrow where he once found love, and love where he once found sorrow. 

But his dreams have nothing on reality, because he has everything he could ever need here, smothered in the embrace of his family and team. 

He’s finally _happy_.


End file.
